Shreds of What We Had
by suckersoprano
Summary: When Rick was recruited for some shady-sounding work, Craig was absolutely certain he would come back like he promised. The letters to home eventually stop and Craig sets out to find out what happened to his missing lover.
1. The Letters

Hands were clasped around a silver chain, fingers carefully pressing against each of the links while he mouthed the numbers while he thought. He'd already counted several times, there were three hundred and sixty five beads on the long chain, fifty-two on the short one; he'd passed his fingertips across the name on the tags enough times to know what they said simply by touch. The stream of numbers made him calm and mitigated the loneliness that made their apartment seem a little darker. He counted for the third time and then counted the days Rick had been gone; it was a bit under six months. One hundred and sixty-eight days, to be exact and it had been thirteen days since his last letter.

The letters always kept what he was doing fairly vague, though it didn't dampen the worry Craig harbored because of it. If anything it made it worse, but in his own silly little way, he knew how to make it better. Rick wrote about how much he missed him and reminded him of things they did together; it made Craig uncertain because he didn't talk at all about what he was _working_ on, but the fact that he was so focused on coming home was relieving. Craig had been with Rick for several years now and if he knew anything about the man, he did whatever he set his mind to and did it _well_. Memories of when they first met and how vigorously they fought had the corners of Craig's mouth turning upward despite themselves and promises of things they would do together when he returned were collectively hopeful and distressing.

Under different circumstances, Craig liked to keep his living areas clean, but he left the letters Rick sent scattered on the coffee table so he could read them when he got home from the archive; there wasn't a lot to greet him aside from the mail and a small meal. They heartened him and kept him going when things got lonely. It wasn't like Craig to socialize too often, he was going to sit in his living room and weather this by himself. It became almost a reward to remind him not to fall into old habits of forgetting to care for himself when he was especially thrown into his work.

Craig slipped the chain over his neck to its rightful place, holding the tags in his hand over his chest, lying down on the couch with his arm over his eyes. Today in the archive he'd stumbled across a word in a foreign language that translated to missing someone for what felt like years. The accuracy was hitting him kind of hard and it made him feel even more pathetic. He was a thinking, logical, functioning _adult_, for god's sake and he could get on perfectly fine without company, but Rick had a way of worming where he didn't belong at first and now there was a hole where the brute had left, where he once was a bright spot in an otherwise depressing existence. Craig couldn't be too mad at him for that; he only wished he were here.

Today was a Saturday, right before the mail came and it was the fourteenth day since the last letter. Rick had been surprisingly systematic about writing every two weeks; another letter was due today. The mail came precisely at 3 pm and it was exactly 2:59, so Craig lifted himself off the couch to check the mail. Bills, subscription offers, junk, and a messily addressed envelope for Craig Renshaw. He smiled, looking the envelope over before returning to the apartment to open it, there was never a return address, due to some secrecy for the work Rick was doing, but Craig could ignore that for now with a quick few rips and an opened letter. Rick's deplorable handwriting was now far more charming now that it was Craig's only contact with him; he pushed his glasses up his nose and curled up on the couch to read, shuffling papers before settling his eyes on his name with a nostalgic smile on his lips.

_Dear Craig,_

_Something kind of hit me today: you'd hate it up here. It's cold and wet and it snows a lot really early, half the people here have a cold most of the time, and they're all keen on sharing! Not that I'd mind it at all if you were here, I'd be more than happy to warm you up and then some! Don't mind taking care of you if you get sick much either, they have some really great soup up here that I think you might like, but that's about the extent of good food they have up here. After thinking about all of that, I realized I'd really rather be home with you and dammit, the sooner I am the better. I'd much rather sleep in our bed, warming you up there._

_I'm sorry things had to be like this, I'm kind of regretting leaving more and more each day, but I'll be back soon, I swear to god. Last I remember seeing of you, you were half-way between angry as a hive of bees and sad as a lost puppy. I can remember you smiling before, but I feel like shit that I left you looking like that. Damn, every time I write one of these, I hope it makes you smile. I'm not leaving again after I get home, that's for sure. You remembered what I promised, right? The money I'm getting from my work here, we're going to go look for a house, right? I should have enough to pay for a hefty chunk of that and a couple part-time jobs will get that knocked right out in no time. We'll have something that's ours and that'll make up for being gone so long, I hope._

_It's been a long time and sometimes I worry someone else figured out how great you are and decided to snap you up while I can't knock some sense into them. I know you can't write me back, but if you're still reading these and that's the case, you can tell that asshole he's got one hell of a beat down coming for him. He better be one handsome devil or I'm going to be mighty offended. I'm pulling your leg, I know you. Don't get too down on me, you hear? Hell, it'd be good for you if you went out and got hit on or anything out of the house! I'm betting you're holed up in the apartment or working all the overtime you can. Got to remember there's sunshine outside, sweetheart._

_Do me a favor and promise me something. I'm getting my ass there before Christmas, I'm going to go out on a limb and promise that to you. You have to do return the favor for me, though. Once I see you, you aren't allowed out of my sight for at least a day and kiss me harder than when I left, okay? I miss the hell out of you and I'm thinking about you all the time. Take care of yourself and think about me a little, too, would you?_

_Love,_

_Rick_

By the end of the letter, Craig was indeed smiling. He read it twice more as was the habit and placed it on top of the last one, lying on the couch curled in the cushions. He daydreamed about living a steady life in some little house. It staved off gnawing feelings of depression until he fell asleep there without meaning to, waking up cold several hours later to drag himself to bed. He took the most recent letter along with him as an afterthought; closest he was going to get to sleeping next to Rick for a while. It would have to do.

Pleasant thoughts graced his dreams for once, thoughts of homecomings and catching up, their habits falling right into place where they had been with ease. In his dreams, Craig could give Rick his dog tags and refuse to take them ever again; taking them meant that he would leave again.

"Last thing I got from bein' in th'army," Rick had told him once, "Don't care too much 'bout th'rest, but I got it in m'head that with these guys, I can still do whatever I put m'mind to."

Craig woke up the next morning and counted the links in the chain again. It was sincerely… soothing somehow, not that he needed to know they were there. He kind of wished Rick had kept the dog tags; maybe then he'd be home by now, according to his theory on the tags. That little bit of doubt that maybe he wouldn't put his mind to coming back to him was quickly extinguished. No one wrote a letter that heartfelt and made no intention of pulling through, especially not Rick. The thought cheered him and he went about his day with a little more enthusiasm.

Two weeks went by without poignant note and the mail didn't come on Saturday. Not one single letter in his mailbox; not a bill, or an advertisement, nothing, least of all a hastily addressed letter to one Craig Renshaw. It was hard to swallow the disappointment, but Craig squared his shoulders and assumed it must have been a mistake. Regardless, he has spent six months without Rick and he was doing _just fine_. Everything was clean, he was healthy, and he was paying the bills, all things he did even while Rick was there, so he could deal with waiting for Monday to come and his letter to be with it.

Saturday and Sunday went by as normal, as always planned. Monday came by and he fully expected to find a letter when he came home from work, but there was nothing but junk, yet again. They were promptly shoved into the garbage and his regular perch on the couch was occupied. He flipped through the old letters to find a favorite, one of the first letters Rick had sent him. His angry sigh bent the paper, but he carefully smoothed out the crease and began to read.

_Dear Craig,_

_You know, there's this huge lake here. I remember you telling me that this was the largest body of freshwater in the world, but shit, did you know it was so dirty? It's kind of nasty and you know I normally don't care. Oh well, I don't have to eat the fish from there, not sure I want to be glowing green by nightfall. Everything's so damn salty for being freshwater here, must have something to do with the mine._

_I hate that you can't write me, but that's how it goes, they're telling me. I'll just have to guess what you're worried about, though I have to say, I'm getting pretty good at it. I'm doing fine, physically. My leg doesn't bother me so much as it did down there, but it's not so dry up here. I know you might be worried I'm stressing it, but I swear I'm stretching it out, sure, but not hurting myself. Nobody really took care of me like you did, though, so it gets stiff sometimes. That's one of the first things I noticed about you, you know? You have all these walls up, but I know the truth, you're really a fuss and a damn good nurse. You are a lot more compassionate than you want people to think._

_I'm sure you remember bumping into me on the street that day we met, I knocked a bunch of books out of your hands and I tried to help you out. I think I called you a nerd or whatever and we got into it really bad; if it had gone on any longer, we might have gotten a crowd going. I know one of us was going to go hit the other, but my leg cramped right the hell up and I was down real quick. The look of concern on your face, that's what I noticed about you first, the fact that I had been some 'big dumb oaf' I think you said, and you were still nice enough to make sure I was okay. Once you helped me get up and out of the street, the second thing was your hands. I think I told you that you were pretty good with your hands, rubbing out the tension on my knee. It was your mouth I noticed after that, how you were chewing on your lip and turned redder than a tomato. I was smitten at that point, though I would never have told you. _

_Suddenly that big bad trash talker in the street went from fiery to nervous when I asked you to dinner. That was a good night, I still think about it a lot; I didn't mean to try to get you into bed, I hope you know. I liked you more than enough to take it slower than I might've, but damn, I don't regret it now. I still remember how you tasted that first time; keeps me warm at night sometimes. Not going to lie when I say that's something I miss, too, though I know you might kill me for writing that down. Don't matter, though, I'm missing all of you._

_I know, I know, it hasn't been too long now, has it? I don't really care; I'm ballsy enough to say it. It's been two months and I miss the hell out of you. I'm looking to get back before fall, so I'm going to see you soon and we can celebrate in all the ways you and I are good at. Try not to miss me too bad, though, one of us should figure this long-distance shit out._

_Love,_

_Rick_

Upon reading it the third time, Craig's dreamy half-smile turned into a frown. That was right, Rick had said he was going to try to get home by fall, but the last one said before Christmas. No explanation was given as to why the date was pushed back, that was strange. It was already getting cold, it was the end of November and if Rick wanted to come home before Christmas, it'd have to be soon.

A little glimmer of hope shot through him: perhaps he was already on his way and that's why he wasn't writing. Driving all the way from… well, wherever he happened to be—somewhere north, presumably—was going to take some time, exactly like when he had left. If he was returning, that was a good reason to get out the decorations, he thought to himself. They had a little tree and lights someplace, it would brighten the place up and make it seem like he hadn't gotten a great deal more than his day job accomplished while Rick was gone. That was a warm and inviting welcome, he thought as he pulled out the Christmas decorations. A Christmas reunion was precisely what he needed to tickle the deeply closeted romantic in him; he hummed as he started to hang lights on the windows of the apartment. Now their catching up involved spiced wine and sugar cookies, in his mind and with the addition of Rick's slightly suggestive commentary, perhaps it would end on the table, encouraged by the wine. Somewhere in the corners of his mind, he knew he was jumping to conclusions, but the thought made him happy enough to keep it and guard it.

That cynical part of him was correct, though. Spiced wine was made, but Christmas came and went. No Rick, no call, no letter, no sign that he was even still _alive_ or anything and Craig sat at the table with their stupid little tree, drunk with shoulders shaking, trying to maintain himself in spite of bone-crushing, disappointing assumptions that had made him happy for a moment. They were back with a vengeance right now, taunting him for being so naïve while he slowly got drunk on warm alcohol. Right now it was too sweet for his tastes; liquor that burned might have suited him better right now.

Staring at the glass of wine in his hand, he couldn't help but wonder where Rick was and what he was doing. Yes, it was starting to shape up like he'd been completely forgotten behind, but his pink eyes stared at the swirling bubbles in his wine glass while wondering if Rick was going to be happy where he was if it was without him. Now that he was _'up north'_ wherever, Craig almost had to bet that there was _someone_ else involved. It was difficult, but he tried to tell himself that he was better off now. He could hate the asshole for not having the courage to tell him and then… move on. The wine bubbles were quickly washed down his throat and the rest of the night was spent pondering if this new person was better looking than him or possibly less difficult to handle, or if it was possible Rick ran off with some _woman_ with both those traits and weighing which would hurt more.

Through the haze of melancholy, it was impossible for Craig not to wonder and fret if Rick was alright. Selfishly, a darker part of him wanted him not to be, for there to be some very legitimate reason he was not writing or coming home. If he happened to be preoccupied with an injury or worse, at least he was still Craig's, which made him feel horrible. It was simply encouraging that he was still on his way home and if he wasn't… Craig set his forehead against the kitchen table with a soft, tired sob. He didn't even want to consider the what-ifs anymore. The more he thought about them, the less all of this felt worth it. He fell asleep on the table once he stopped shaking with his arms curled around his head. Vague snippets of nightmares plagued him, but when he woke up he couldn't remember them. He blamed it on the wine and hastily threw out the remainder.

New Year's Eve was spent going to bed very early, as Craig was unwilling to start a new year this way without silent protest. He listlessly spent all of New Year's Day at the archive, putting in overtime to keep his mind off of all of the horrible possibilities. January second was the day he returned to a single letter in his mailbox, haphazardly addressed in a familiar handwriting. Craig swallowed and tried to stuff his heart back down from leaping into his throat, but he tore the letter open right there, shredding the envelope in the floor without a second thought. Inside was a neatly printed note along with what appeared to be the normal handwritten letter. Craig's shoulders relaxed and he took a deep breath before reading the note.

**To whom it may concern,**

**Our apologies, but this letter has been redacted for the public safety. Please be comforted by the fact that your employee is healthy and happy and there is no reason to worry whatsoever!**

**Have a happy holiday!**

Underneath of the holiday wishes was a strange circular symbol. Craig didn't think too hard on it, swapping the paper for the one behind it, biting his lip in anticipation but… most, if not all, of the letter was blacked out with thick black bars. He scanned the bars, but nothing was intelligible behind them, not a symbol or a vowel. The words _Dear Craig_, where there in the familiar handwriting, but after that there were blocks of lines without another word breaking them up until the very end where it simply said: _I love you, I miss you. Love, Rick._

Unsure of what his stomach was doing and how he was feeling, he managed to drag himself back up to their apartment to think. That had never happened before and Craig wondered why that was. Was Rick alright or did he break some kind of rule? Was there a new security feature that didn't allow employees to say anything to their loved ones? This was… this wasn't _fair_. First they take Rick _away_ from him and now they say Rick can no longer write letters which was the _only_ happy thing in the past _ten months_, the only thing that kept Craig a little hopeful that this might all return to normal.

The letter sat in his lap for a long time while he thought with his hand pressed to his temples, the fingers of his other hand draped across the opposite side of the well censored letter from his missing lover. He drew his both hands up to brush his blonde bangs out of his face, fingertips rasping the paper of the letter. He dropped them down to the couch suddenly, staring at the reverse side of the blackened letter. Shut eyes and a deep breath were what he needed right now, just to be _absolutely_ certain he hadn't just imagined that feeling the raised edges of words he was not allowed to read. Gingerly, he set both letters on the coffee table before racing to get a pencil and paper. A gut feeling that he was about to read something forbidden and possibly terrible had his hands shaking while he lined up Rick's unfairly censored letter with a thin sheet of paper and pressed it to the table. He made short work of the pencil, tearing one side of the wood off to aid in making a rubbing, drawing the graphite against the paper with the utmost care. It appeared that the censors didn't forget everything, only a few letters and very deeply written words were legible.

Only a few passes of the pencil were necessary, Craig was worried about missing something if he pressed too hard. He set it aside and brought the rubbing to his face, inspecting the shapes that he saw there. There wasn't much, it appeared that the people blocking the mail did a better job than Craig had hoped, but there was still _something_ there. The words _something is going on_ and _I'm not sure what will happen to me_ were plainly visible, making Craig's heartbeat speed up. He instantly regretted thinking anything as selfish as he had on Christmas; now he just desperately wished that Rick was okay. The last little bit of the letter made his heart drop right into his stomach: _If I don't see you again, just remember I love you, I miss you._

The paper was dropped and his hands clutched at his stomach. Sheer horror had his stomach heaving and his whole body shaking. What did that _mean_? This didn't paint a very comforting picture about Rick's whereabouts or his ability to come _back to him._ The second paper was almost forgotten, Craig snatched it up with trembling hands, examining the surface for _something, anything_ for a clue where Rick _was_; he wasn't going to just let them _have him_ like that! Nothing on the paper gave him any clues to where he was going to begin looking aside from that strange symbol. It looked familiar, like it was a graphic of another type of symbol he'd seen before, but _where_ it might be was completely lost.

He sat back into the couch and removed his glasses, pressing his fingers into his eyes in a vain attempt to think. It was really no good, the more he thought, the more his thoughts raced and the more they raced… he was simply working himself into a panic. The chain around his neck jangled against his chest when he slammed his hands down on the cushions. Right, he thought to himself, relax; he slipped it off, quickly counting until he could feel his heart rate reach an appropriate level. In past letters, Rick had said he was north, near a large body of water, the largest in the world. That was the Great Lakes, Craig knew, he'd _told_ Rick about that and had been pleased he'd remembered in the letter. Alright, he was definitely in the Midwestern part of the country, that narrowed it down.

Unfortunately, it appeared those were the only clues he had. He spent the rest of the night sifting through the letters he had, scanning the words for more clues as to the whereabouts of this place might have been. Feelings of outright anger with Rick that he hadn't been looser with information cropped out every now and then, but they weren't important now and were immediately stuffed back down. Right now he only had so much to work with and what he was finding was dismally few ideas of _where_ he might be right now. He had two, which narrowed it down to… eight states, one of which was split in half. The rest of the night was spent with his knees up to his chin and his fingers pressed to his head, reviewing everything he read, every tiny bit of information that might help him figure this out.

At a point he could not recall, he fell asleep on the couch and woke with a start early the next morning. A well-rested mind had him stuffing the note with the symbol into his pocket and pulling into work several hours earlier than they expected him dressed in the same clothes he left in last night. The first thing he did was pull out a map and a pad of paper, quickly listing all of the cities on the coasts of the Great Lakes. It was a large list, a _huge_ list, but it narrowed him down from eight entire states to several pages of cities and towns. That entire morning was spent looking up populations and crossing out places that didn't have so much as a hundred people. That wasn't enough to warrant a grocery store, let alone a place where they hired war veterans for… for something. Something important.

Evidently there were no pressing tasks to be done at the archive today because Craig was left knocking out cities that had the wrong climate, that had very good food, and that were cleaner waters until the wee hours of the morning. He searched and circled cities where there might be a nuclear plant, from the comment Rick made about turning glowing green. Somewhere around two a.m. did it hit him: _Salt mines._ Rick mentioned the atmosphere being salty and there being a _mine!_ He immediately pulled up information about salt mines in the Midwest, finding _Michigan._ He hurriedly crossed off any other cities he had left that weren't in the state of Michigan. Of course, _of course_, it was the one state that had two parts separated by a body of _water_; this couldn't be simple on him for once!

Another hour of searching through records yielded nothing fruitful. Most of the salt mines in Michigan had too much distance to the lake, he realized with a great deal of desperate frustration. Craig sat with his head in his hands, almost ready to give up. This wasn't getting him anywhere; he had an odd symbol and a myriad of clues that didn't actually point to anything specific. This was all just _speculation_ and guesswork, which was _not_ an area in which Craig was comfortable. He was used to cold hard _facts_ being about as absolute as words without mathematical equations to back them up could possibly be. Playing detective wasn't his idea of fulfilling or secure work. He sat back and sighed, gently pressing his forefinger to the dog tags hidden under his shirt. He had to do this, he resolved. There was no backing out of this if he ever wanted to see Rick again and oh god did he want to see Rick again.

With that purpose settling into his mind, renewing his determination, he found the will to keep going. This time, he was looking through old mines, abandoned mines, anywhere close to a lakeside. Hours and painful hours of searching led him straight to a small scrap of news clipping that was simply a couple of town meeting-like notes. Population was down, jobs were leaving, but… the local abandoned salt mine was bought up by a company named Aperture. A jolt of realization shot through him; he yanked the note out of his pocket and smoothed it against the desk as best he could, staring at the circular symbol with a near wheeze of excited discovery. That _symbol_ was the aperture of a camera, an _aperture!_ Just like the company that had bought a salt mine!

Craig stepped back and let himself laugh in victory, chest feeling tight and head dizzy. He'd found a lead; it was only a matter of time before he packed up his car and left. Of course, he was not the impulsive type, so he sat down and went through the records again, looking for an Aperture company or some kind. There wasn't much, but it was there, an Aperture Laboratories, founded in 1947 by a Cave Johnson who had passed in 1976, but not much else on them… except an address. A vague address that only listed a town, but that was all Craig truly needed. He scribbled down the town he was headed for and immediately left, not bothering to replace the materials he had taken out. There were more important things to worry about; his job could be permanently gone in exchange for Rick again. He needed to _hurry._

There was absolutely no use in sleeping until he had emptied out their bank account and packed the car with supplies. Clothes, food, maps, water, everything he thought he could even maybe need to make a journey of just under a day were stuffed into the car. His route was carefully planned for the fastest feasible trip up through the mainland of Michigan straight to the Upper Peninsula. Then and _only_ then did he allow himself to take his sleep aid and pass out. His hands were still shaking with anticipation when he finally fell asleep. He wasn't sure he was ready for this, but it wasn't the time to prep himself. The sleep aid allowed him to slumber dreamlessly for as long as his body deemed necessary; he woke somewhere in the late morning and sat himself in the car, gripping the steering wheel.

There was no way to anticipate what was going to happen when he got up there, he could find that this whole business was an elaborate ruse for some reason or that Rick was in some serious trouble with the law or _something_. He would have all of the time to worry about the what-ifs while he was driving, but right now, he had to step back and pray to god he wasn't making a mistake by leaving. He was much too paranoid to leave without a trace of some kind; a long formal letter was written and left on the kitchen table next to the long-forgotten Christmas tree with a note to Rick written on the back, along with the a manila folder with all of the letters Rick had written him. It detailed where he was going and why, just in case something happened to him and just in case he was wrong and Rick got home before he did. He honestly hoped that would be what happened, but something that fortunate wasn't likely to be—the worrying side of him said he was doing the right thing. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands before settling to his ritual of counting the links on the dog tags around his neck. Three hundred and sixty-five, fifty-two on the small one; the constant of the beads was the only thing trustworthy and dependable right now. He lifted the chain and hung it around his rear-view mirror—a reminder of why he was making a fool's journey to a place he was only ninty-five percent sure housed the man he was looking for and intended on bringing home. He sighed heavily and started the engine, pulling away from the apartment. He didn't plan on stopping until he got there.


	2. The Facility

The town he was now pulling into wasn't… quite what he expected. It was small and sparsely populated; he'd anticipated dealing with a bigger town or city that had lots of factories and production plants. This was nearly the opposite. He stopped at the sole gas station to ask about Aperture. He was given an odd, suspicious look, but the directions were given, edging past the outskirts of town. He almost asked more information, but the man who worked the register at the station didn't appear to like talking about it. He dropped it, but this all did nothing to aid the mounting suspicion as Craig made his way toward the old salt mines. He found a parking lot, with several cars in it after driving through a back road through the woods for what felt like an hour; quite a _large_ parking lot, to his surprise. He'd assumed it was a larger scientific facility, but this… well, he was parked about a mile out, cautiously away from most of the cars and there was still _quite a few_ packed in with him. The front gate security seemed surprisingly lax when they saw the state of his car, as well, which appeared as though he were living in it. The sense of dread was mounting the closer he got.

Rick was right about Craig hating it here: it was indeed freezing in early January and the thin jacket Craig wore wasn't helping block out the biting cold much. The entire walk toward the huge building, Craig had his arms wrapped around himself with his head down; Rick's old dogtags were cold and pressing against his chest, further distracting him. He almost didn't see a man in a lab coat angrily storming away from the building as he approached it, he had to quickly skirt to the side before he knocked the man's box from his hands.

"Fire me," the man grumbled under his breath, "I'm just trying to keep your test subjects _alive_, god forbid, I hope you all rot in _hell_ for what you're doing…"

The man's ramblings to himself wasn't terribly comforting in the least, "Excuse me," Craig piped up, making the man whirl around with an angry snarl.

"What do—Oh, you're probably going in for volunteer testing, aren't you. Poor soul, don't do it, not that they ever listen," the man sighed.

"No, I'm… I'm looking for someone who was hired here," Craig tried not to let his panic show.

"Heh, you really are a poor soul then. I hope they're alive, I really do," the man said with a shake of his head, "You know what… I have something that might help you."

Craig warily watched the man with his hands deep in his jacket pockets while the apparent scientist set his box down and rifled through it, producing a security badge and offering it to the blond. Craig hesitantly took it and examined it, with a glance up at the man.

"They didn't take my badge; they were in such a hurry to get me the hell out. That's what I get for having _morals_. They said something about already _having_ morality and it just… made no sense," the scientist shook his head, "If they don't show you who you're looking for… well, god help you, that's all I can say."

Craig stared wide-eyed as the man swiftly picked up his box and moved away. It only took Craig a moment to remember that he was freezing, so he pocketed the badge with a nervous sigh and turned back toward the building. There was the symbol again, the same camera aperture symbol right next to the name _Aperture Laboratories_.

The doors opened automatically into a plush-looking waiting room with armchairs and tables in one direction with what appeared to be offices for secretaries to his left. The lobby was deserted for right now, with a pair of big doors toward the back with an obvious slot to swipe a card next to it; Craig took note, remembering the generous scientist. A portrait of a cheerful looking man with the plaque _Cave Johnson_ hung next to a glass case with what appeared to be awards, assumedly for different scientific achievements. Tentatively, Craig peered around the door to the secretary offices without seeing anyone for a long moment. The quiet was unsettling and the deserted offices were eerie; it set Craig on edge already.

"Hello?" he called, his voice nearly swallowed by the deafening silence.

There was a sudden click of heels behind him and a voice spoke up, making him jump before he could turn around, "May I _help_ you?" a snotty voice called.

A short young woman stared at him unpleasantly; Craig frowned but approached, "Yes, I was hoping you could help me. I'm looking for—"

"You're in the wrong place if you're applying for testing, dear," the woman huffed, crossing her arms over her blouse and tapping her heeled foot.

"No, I'm actually hoping to find someone that was employed—"

"Human Resources is three floors down."

"Listen, I'm looking for an employee by the name of Richard Segreto," Craig managed to spit out, getting very frustrated with the rude woman interrupting him.

"Oh," she said simply and turned on her heel.

Craig could only stare after her, confused and shocked by the abrupt ceasefire of interruptions. She smoothed the back of her skirt behind her before sitting down at one of the computers at the numerous desks, fingers clacking away, assumedly typing out the information he'd given. Slightly at a loss, he drew closer to her desk and shifted from foot to foot waiting.

"Sir," she spoke up suddenly, giving him something of a contemptuous glance, "I'm _very_ sorry, but we can't just pull up an employee's file without reason on a dime like that."

The frown on Craig's face couldn't accurate describe his displeasure. She could've said that _before_ she sat down. He couldn't _exactly_ say that he was looking for his missing boyfriend, however true it might have been. The likelihood that it would get him a repercussion was slim, but unlikely that it would garner him some allies at this point or even get him the information he wanted. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Please, ma'am, he's been here for just under a year and we haven't gotten contact from him in several months," Craig forced his voice to be more plaintive instead of annoyed, stretching the truth just slightly.

"Segreto? S-E-G-R-E-T-O?" she glanced at him with a huff, almost glaring at the blond from under her false eyelashes and immediately looked down at her screen when he nodded, "No record of a 'Segreto' here. Only Richard I know is some old guy in the chemistry department, sorry."

She didn't sound particularly sorry, much to Craig's annoyance. The curt, almost _rude_ behavior had him more upset with the secretary than the possibility that he was in the wrong place. The fact that she was annoyed she had to do part of her _job_ wasn't helping him put too much stock in her words. She'd even spelled a somewhat uncommon last name correctly and assumed he _wasn't_ looking for said older man in the chemistry department; Craig wasn't convinced and was starting to think the suspicious feeling that was blossoming in his chest wasn't entirely out of paranoia. He took a long moment to breathe with his eyes shut before speaking.

"Are you absolutely certain you searched in the right departments? I have letters from him with your company's symbol, he was not a scientist," Craig offered, attempting to keep the contempt and anger out of his voice with mixed results.

"If he was maintenance, kitchen staff, or test subject, that isn't my department," she rolled her eyes, "I'll get you someone else."

The woman briskly rose from her desk and walked to a door with venetian blinds blocking the window. As she disappeared behind it, a man and a woman took her place, both carrying large stacks of paper and talking away like no one else was there. Craig stared, not moving to be inconspicuous or anything, but neither of them were paying him any mind.

"You had gotten the memo about the memorial in an hour, right?"

"Of course I did, but I have so much to do…"

"It's required, the guy was the head of the company not too long ago."

"How long ago did he die? Does it really matter _that_ much?"

"Eh, I don't know, but you know what kind of punishment skipping on something 'required' means."

"Oh god, I don't want to test—OH!" the woman nearly dropped her stack of papers as she almost walked into Craig standing there, "Excuse me, sir, can we help you?"

Craig was more than a little wary of these two people, but there was no choice, "Ah, I'm looking for a Richard Segreto that was employed here…"

"Scientist?" the man asked, sitting down at a desk to tap out the information.

"No, he was a veteran in the army, I doubt he had some scientific degree I wasn't aware of," he supplied, subconsciously crossing his arms to press the dog tags around his neck closer to his chest.

The man gave him a look very similar to the first woman, but continued tapping out keys, "S-E-G-R-E-T-O, right? Says there is no such record of a test subject or scientist or other employee."

Craig opened his mouth to protest, but the woman sidled up to the man's desk and peered over his shoulder, "Yes there is, says right there."

The man gave her a meaningful glare that Craig did not miss and she quickly amended her words, "Oh, says he already went home, sorry about that. Maybe try contacting his family or something!"

"Thanks," Craig spat flatly and they both cheerily smiled and went about their business.

It was very unlikely that Rick's family would have been contacted if something happened; Craig was the emergency contact and the man's mother has passed away a long time ago and his father wasn't really equipped to handle an injured anyone, much less his adult son. Craig was the emergency contact, as far as he knew. That card key in his pocket suddenly felt very heavy. If he hadn't thought they were lying, he would have turned it in, but… now it seemed like something was going on and he had the means to find out exactly _what_ they were hiding. That scientist he met in the parking lot seemed to much more right than Craig felt like pondering right now.

He moved back into the lobby with the trophy case and glanced at the portrait of the founder for a moment. That memorial the employees were talking about was likely for this man; the plaque said he died a few years before. If it was required with a repercussion for not attending, that would be his chance. Craig took a deep breath and slid the card through the slot next to the door in the lobby, quietly slipping inside of it after it beeped. The security gate immediately on the inside had the door left open with a security guard staring at the screens. The guard didn't seem to notice Craig immediately, so he squared his shoulders and walked pass his glass window like he was supposed to be there, holding up the card in what he hoped was a similar scientist-like behavior. The guard didn't look up and as soon as he was out of ear shot, Craig jogged away with his heart thumping in a fit of nerves.

Around a corner and through a few well-inspected doors, he glanced at a clock and found there were maybe forty-five minutes until the hour. No one was in sight in this first area, but he almost didn't want to push his luck any further. There were control panels to his left and a railway leading to another door and more buttons. A large sign sat under two painted arrows, directing toward the security gate and something labeled the testing track; Craig took a moment to inspect the sign. It had a small stick figure wearing an orange jumpsuit with a hobo pack over his shoulder, pantomiming making an escape. It read 'Remember: See orange, press red!' in a cheery font that made Craig squint at it with some confusion. Just underneath of it was a large red button that was marked 'terminate.' It made the blond shudder at the thought of what it could mean; he moved past it quickly toward the testing tracks, leaving morbid thoughts behind him.

The walkway took him over what looked like some labs with large glass beakers littering the tables and whiteboards with complex equations and notes written on them. Craig moved as quietly as he could, seeing there were still some scientists lingering, despite the fact that there was now thirty minutes until this mandatory memorial. Their conversation was somewhat intelligible to Craig, who stopped to listen just for a moment.

"The preliminary tests for the blood-to-gasoline formula were a success…there were a few hitches in the results…it was really too bad he…there was gasoline everywhere…who would have guessed his body couldn't…it was gushing from every orifice…," the broken commentary made Craig shiver and keep going, picking his pace up a little.

There was something very wrong with this place. Terminating test subjects attempting to escape with an ominous red button, turning blood into gasoline and conversing about it like it was nothing, plus all of the damn run-around he got about finding one solitary, assumedly unimportant employee; this was all painting a bizarre picture that wasn't getting much better the more Craig went on.

The metal walkway finally expanded to an open security gate and an open area. Craig very carefully wandered in, seeing two buildings on opposite ends of the room where there was an obvious switch and counter, all set up on a matching set of stairs. A sign lit by a dim bulb mentioned something about the switches being pulled simultaneously. As Craig approached slowly, glancing around for anyone who might spot him, but it was pretty desolate. He checked his watch at the same time a giant light flickered on above him; he stared up and saw a giant hatch door. Craig's neck craned all the way back as he stared at it, trying to see what it did or what it held or _anything_. The only hint he had was that it was _massive_ and this was _supposed_ to be where the testing tracks were. Without anywhere else to go, he climbed the stairs and moved toward the switches, but there was no way he could manage to flip both in the five second time frame given.

He drew closer to the door and found it was blocked off by another security gate; that made sense, given that the mechanism to lift the door swung it upward and anyone could be seriously injured by drawing too close. It didn't appear there was much else to do here, but there was no other place to go, aside from back to the lobby. There had been too much progress to turn back already and the longer Craig stayed here, the more terrified he was that something unspeakable happened to Rick.

_KA-CHUNK_. A booming noise had Craig nearly falling over himself in surprise and shock, realizing that it was the enormous port door in front of him sliding into place so the wheel in front could swing around to unlock it. Oh! It was opening! Craig scrambled back to his feet and dashed to one of the security gates as sirens were sounding, hiding himself just under a window to observe what was happening. Fifteen minutes before the memorial, he realized with a quick glance at his watch; the port door was lifted away by a giant arm, pulling it toward the ceiling. Craig watched as it disappeared from the pool of light below; he only turned to look down when he heard the chatter of people. Behind that giant port door was…

Another door. A smaller door with a simple bar handle and a window. Craig stared for a long moment before rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn't going insane already, it appeared not because suddenly the chatter got louder and a great deal of employees started to pour from the door, talking with one another in small groups. None of them seemed bothered by the fact that they were walking out of a tiny door when there was a HUGE one blocking the way for seemingly no reason. Aperture Science was starting to make less and less sense as time went on.

There were hundreds of them, wearing an assortment of colored jumpsuits and some with labcoats over them. Test subjects, if Craig had to make a guess; he scanned the crowd very, very carefully, aware that according to what he'd deduced so far, Rick was likely employed as one. No one stuck out as even similar, Rick would easily stick out in a crowd, he was tall, broad shouldered, and the type that made friends easily and talked too loud. There were people in the throngs of test subjects that fit parts of that description, but no one that was exactly _Rick._ It took quite a while, but the crowd eventually thinned out and disappeared; Craig waited for a long moment before coming out of the security gate to investigate.

Another loud _KA-CHUNK_ signaled the descend of the giant port door; Craig gasped and nearly tumbled down the stairs sprinting for the door, vaulting over the closing security gate with speed and precision that surprised even himself, making a mad dash for the door. He jammed the handle down with all of his force, shoving his shoulder into the door as he watched the huge port door barreling toward him. The door finally opened and Craig fell through just as the giant port door crashed down behind him. He scrambled to his feet and whipped around to see the last of the light from the other side disappear, leaving a singular lamp above his head as the only reason he could see.

He gripped the front of his shirt, feeling his heart thudding heavily in his chest. That door was about two seconds away from cutting him in half; he _made_ it. As much as Craig didn't believe in fate, nothing could be clearer about coming here. He made it this far by some act of some higher power: there was absolutely no turning back now. He was stuck, both mentally and physically.

The blond leaned against one of the walls to catch his breath before he hyperventilated. There were no signs around telling him where to go, but there was really only one hallway, as far as he could see. The singular light above him didn't allow him to see the rest of the way. He ran a hand through his hair and sucked down one more deep breath before beginning to make his way down the hallway, keeping a hand against the wall to prevent them from getting lost. A loud sparking noise erupted from the ceiling, nearly making Craig jump out of his skin, but a light flickered on just past the first one. He blinked up at it, wary it was going to flicker off again, but the more he walked, the more lights turned on.

That was a relief. There seemed to be a singular door at the end of the hallway and nothing more. It was unmarked and looked heavy, with a valve on the front to open it. Craig tentatively grasped the wheel and turned it, grunting with effort to pull the heavy metal port open. He slipped through the small crack he'd managed to work open; he was greeted by a vast, dark underground lake in a cavern that Craig had to strain his neck even to see light peeking from the top. A huge metal globe with criss-cross slats of metal for the oceans sat in the middle of the lake. It had a strip of metal around the United States that said in a bold font: APERTURE INNOVATORS.

Rising up around the globe were huge towers all attached with high-rising walkways and spheres a size that Craig couldn't even begin to fathom from his vantage point. All of this looked wildly disproportionate to the outside of the building; Craig couldn't recall moving _down_ at all, but here he was staring up like he was a great distance under the earth's surface.

It took him a moment to regain a sense of self, feeling so small in such a huge chamber; once he did he looked a little more at eye-level. There were several heavy metal doors like the one he'd just come out of, all marked with various numbers and letters, some painted with neat letters that said QUARANTINE. Wisely, Craig stayed very far from those doors. He didn't even know where to begin to search for answers, but straying near something that would _obviously_ harm him was not intelligent. He took a deep breath, hoping to quell feelings of gloom about the overwhelming sense of being very small and very, very useless right now. He turned and chose the nearest safe looking door for inspection. It was marked with yellow paint stating M-2 in severe looking type. With a deep breath and no idea what would lie ahead, Craig turned the valve and pried the door open, relieved to find nothing immediately jumped at him.

Instead, there was another hallway with a simple door with a lever handle with another single light lighting the short path. Nothing else marked the hallway, Craig checked twice, very much preferring not to walk into some sort of radiation testing grounds or something similar. There was no sign for what kind of danger lie ahead, so Craig cautiously approached the door and opened it, wincing at the creak of metal that erupted when he pushed the door. It was dark in the room beyond, but lights slowly flickered on, revealing row after row of tall, thin tubes that reached taller than an average sized man could reach. They were attached to a giant generator that hummed softly in the silence of the chamber. Curious, but wary, Craig approached one of the metal tubes, looking for some kind of indicator of what it might be. There was a spout at the bottom. There was a small spigot sitting at the top, unmarked aside from the red paint that marked all of the spigots in every one of the tubes.

Though he knew he shouldn't touch a thing, Craig turned the spigot very gently until a small stream of what looked like water hit the grate underneath of the spout. It wasn't water; Craig could tell that by the pungent sweet smell coming from it, so he didn't touch it. He quickly turned the spout back off and stepped away in case it was some kind of noxious material.

A small noise behind him nearly shocked him out of his skin. Craig whipped around and looked for someone there, it sounded like a scuffling foot. Immediately, his heart began hammering in his chest. He was about to get caught and he'd already come all this way. He sucked in a gasp and shoved himself behind one of the spouts, hoping he could hide himself before anyone came to apprehend him. The space was small, but he had enough room to move, to turn and see if there was actually someone there. The noise came from far off in the left corner, he realized and he heard it again. He held his breath when he saw something that might've been a scientist coming from somewhere in the shadows the tubes cast.

Craig's breath hitched in his throat when he realized that flesh colored arm he saw was _not_ a person. A bubble of revulsion crept into his stomach when an easily seven-foot tall beast crawled out from behind the far set of tubes. It had two bulbous humanoid eyes and a huge mandible that snapped hungrily at the air. That breath he was holding came out as a shuddering, scared exhale when that… that _thing_ crawled closer to him, toward the spigot he opened. It made a loud chittering noise that made Craig flinch and he had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep from making a noise in fear. Six arms stuck out from its mantis-like body, they were strangely human, all of its fingers flexing and unflexing in a way that had Craig horrified but staring. Equally, there were six legs that extended from the thorax, all with toes and human hair, but the body had a distinct, exoskeletal sheen that suggested this horrifying monster was far more insectoid than even vaguely human. The mandible was shoved into the grated trough below the spigot, eagerly, disgustingly sucking up the sweet-smelling liquid that Craig had poured out of the tube.

The monster made a displeased shriek when it could not reach more of the fallen liquid, instead shoving its mandible farther through the grates, effectively making it stick right where it was. The beast struggled, screaming in frustration and Craig could only watch in horror as all of its flesh-colored body segments worked in tandem to try to force itself out of the grate. In a cold wash of realization, Craig realized he had to get away before he was noticed. He did not want to find out if he was at all edible to this creature. He took a breath for courage and worked his way behind the tubes, slowly edging toward the door.

While the monster struggled, Craig scanned the room while he sidled between the wall and the tubes. He saw a door on the other side, opposite the door he'd come in. There was no way he'd get to it without having to run _past_ this monstrosity trying to extract itself. Craig reached the end of the tubes his way and took a deep breath, prepping himself to make a run for the door. Breathe in, breathe out; he just had to run roughly three hundred feet before he had to open the door and slam it shut. Yes, that was all… he had to do.

Craig swallowed thickly and bent his knees, poised to run with one eye firmly on the abomination that was far too close to him, screeching in anger. He sucked down another breath four whatever courage he could screw up and moved, sprinting as fast as he could carry himself, sneakers screaming against the tile floor, almost deafening in Craig's ears, drowning out the sound of the struggling insectoid. He reached the door, almost foolishly stopping to breathe instead of fumbling with the doorknob. The door wouldn't open! Craig kicked the door in frustration and in turn was kicked away from the door, sliding across the floor with a terrified cry, hitting the opposite wall behind the tubes.

"Oh god oh god!" Craig's words stuck in his throat as he saw that huge… _thing_ advancing on him with a speed that almost spelled certain death.

The beast lunged at him, scraping with three of its humanoid hands, groping and reaching for him, but mercifully, it couldn't quite reach. Craig's eyes were wide behind his glasses, those disgusting fingers just inches from his face. His chest was heaving, almost hyperventilating with fear. The groping hands in front of him had him transfixed for several moments before he realized it wasn't going to give up. In a frantic moment of desperation, he scrambled against the wall to stand again and moved as quickly as he could with his back pressed hard against the brick and reached as far as his arm would allow around the tube, frantically twisting the spigot open until a rush of the sweet liquid poured out of it.

The monster immediately yanked itself out of the space it was clawing at and all twelve of its limbs descended on the flow of liquid, hungrily, desperately pulling its mandible to the stream and a red, human-like tongue darted out to drink it up. Craig stared in utter disgust for only a moment before making an adrenaline fueled break for the door, pushing it open with all of his might and shutting it behind him. The last sight he saw when he closed the door was a shrieking human-like insectoid coming at him with all twelve limbs just like the food it was so greedily ingesting.

The moment he was sure that door was locked, Craig turned and ran as far away from that door as he could, putting as many walls, doors, and whatever other obstacles he could between him and …_it._ He found himself tucked under a desk in a seemingly empty office, quaking with latent fear with his knees pulled up to his chest. Water invaded his vision and spots stained his glasses; Craig wasn't sure if his hands were shaking or his vision was swimming. He pressed his forehead to his knees and tried very hard to focus.

It had come to this: he was going to find Rick in here or die trying, he was in that deep.

Now, with that realization, all he had to do was get twelve uncannily human limbs reaching for him to get out of his head. Twelve… twelve… twelve… Somewhere along the line, he nodded off with a quiet, resigned sound that might have been a sob.


	3. The Core

Craig woke with a start, not too much later. A thin, shaking hand was gripped over his heart where the dog tags lie against his skin nearly threw him into a panic before he realized it was his own. Immediately, the counting beads ritual began, not entirely with Craig's conscious permission. Three hundred and sixty-eight, fifty two on the small chain. Alright. His constant was still the same.

He took a deep breath and pulled himself from underneath of the desk he'd sat himself, checking his surroundings in a fit of paranoia. It looked like he was in a lab of some kind; a mechanics lab, robotic parts littered the tables and floor in the dim room. The thick film of dust all over everything suggested it was almost abandoned and the further Craig drew into the room, the less likely he calculated the possibility of being found. There were old computers stacked in one corner and nothing was plugged in except for the fluorescent lights that likely didn't have an off switch, but didn't keep the place very well lit at all.

Nothing in here was going to help him find his missing lover, it seemed. None of the abandoned computers looked modern enough for Craig to figure out, much less assemble correctly; he'd have to go explore if he wanted to even discover where he was. Cautiously, anxiously, he moved further into the lab, pointedly avoiding any large or potentially moveable robotic parts. The eerie calm and layers of dust among the littered metal cases, gears, and circuitry made this place feel quite a lot like a graveyard. The lights flickered above his head, casting a slightly unnerving aura along the room. It was a fairly large room with bigger pieces stacked near the back. All of it lacked a power source, but Craig did not want to take any chances.

Along the left wall, he spotted a glowing light and as he approached it, realized it was a computer monitor that had been left on. Furtively, Craig glanced around him to ensure there was no one there about to come back to their work. He pulled out the chair and sat on the edge, peering at the scientific jargon that was left up on the screen. Given all of his days reading several different texts that had little to nothing related to his profession, it wasn't too hard to decipher the meaning of the document pulled up. It was titled 'Personality Core Initiative' and gave a quick description of what exactly a 'personality core' was.

Craig's pink eyes scanned the lines several times for no other reason aside from the flood of information was calming, soothing in a familiar way. Personality cores were evidently an experiment in building sentient artificial intelligence, which was an interesting concept by itself, much less the attempt. It sounded much better than the previous experiments he'd overheard scientists discussing, much more pleasant, with a far less likelihood of killing someone in a gruesome way.

The further he read, the more the attempts looked like they were failing more and more consistently. It didn't meet their standards, wasn't learning, thinking on its own, all sorts of frustration was subtly poured into the reports and there was a large gap in reports from date to date suddenly. A fairly recent date, not too long ago, just in December of the previous year, they turned more hopeful. The author talked more about a sudden breakthrough when they stopped attempting to build a brand new person and instead did extensive brain mapping on some employees and volunteers. It mentioned working in tandem with another larger project with a similar goal.

Curious that they should mention 'employees _and_ volunteers,' Craig thought to himself, but he continued to reading about how it was a wild success and they had fully functioning personalities that they could mold to fit their needs. It briefly discussed the intended purpose of the project, talking about a greater AI that was made with similar, but more advanced techniques that would require the occasional personality modification due to uncooperative behavior. They looked at attaching this AI to the entire facility to better the efficiency of all projects, including the personality core experiment. Nearing the bottom, Craig found a long list of names, most of which had large blocks of [REDACTED] across them, leaving only their employee number and some basic stats, usually just their department and job title. There was literally everything from janitor to test subject to lead scientific supervisor; it seemed like no one was excluded from the testing. A command prompt was flashing underneath of that with the words /COMMAND RUN flashing.

Craig moved in close enough that he could nearly see his reflection in the screen glass, peering at the command prompt as though it would suddenly begin to tell him what it meant and what exactly it would run. A loud CRASH and a banging of metal behind him made the man jump, hand slamming on the keyboard as he whirled around to see nothing but a heap of metal rolling from a precariously stacked pile of cylinders. A heavy, relieved sigh escaped him as he turned back to the screen to see it suddenly flooded with new, coded information. This sort of language was not one he was familiar with, the codes and programs of a computer, but it eventually stopped printing numbers and command and flashed something he could decipher. 'ADVENTURE CONSTRUCT V.2.3 RUNNING' it read; it looked as though he accidentally switched on one of the constructs. It didn't matter, it likely wasn't in this room—A green light flashed from across the room. Looked like Craig thought far too soon.

The light flashed once or twice before Craig noticed just where the source was. It was in a large box past all of the desks and where most of the space was empty of other parts of robots and machinery. Better to find where it is and shut it off, he reasoned to himself, that way he could keep the amount of attention drawn to himself to a manageable level. Surely someone must've noticed those great horrific beasts disturbed by his presence earlier. Slowly, he rose out of the chair, eyes fixed on the box.

"OI, INTRUDER, I see ya there, y'rotten scum!" a loud voice boomed, making Craig stifled a noise of surprise and duck behind the desk in a hurry.

"Can't go'n hide from me, buddy, I swear I know yer right there!" the voice boomed again, but it sounded much less sure.

In a fit of bravery, Craig peeked over the desk to see the green light flashing around wildly. Was it coming from whatever he had accidentally switched on? He took a quick deep breath in an attempt to even out his heartbeat and climbed out from under the desk, walking nearly on his tiptoes to try to see into the box before he got too close. Unfortunately, the box was too deep and he had to peer inside, shaking out of nerves and anticipation.

"AHA!"

Craig gasped and stumbled away from the box.

"I knew y'were up there, can't hide from me!"

Knowing he hadn't seen a _person_ inside of the box, Craig got over the initial shock with rub to his forehead and looked inside again. The box was only big enough around for the beachball sized metal sphere with a green checked light bulb that seemed to have one big rectangular optic that focused right on his face. The sphere had two handles running across the top and bottom, assumedly to get him out of the deep box if necessary. Craig didn't see it necessary at all, not at all.

"Y'look like one'a them science-y folk," a voice that still came from nowhere said to him, though shutters over the bulb moved animatedly with the sentence, "Pretty damn confusin', y'look damn girly, but y'ain't a girl, are ya?"

Craig tilted his head slightly, ignoring the comment-or mild insult to his masculinity, as it were-in favor of marveling just how human-esque something without any other human traits could be. Literally the only thing that he and this machine shared was one a single eye; it didn't even have two like a person might, nothing in its sphere looked as though it should resemble a face in any way. It was fascinating and uncanny how it accomplished looking as though it were attempting to express emotions it likely shouldn't have.

"Hey kid, 'm talkin' to ya, mind yer damn manners!"

It took him another moment of surreal observation to realize that the voice had to be coming from that sphere. Craig blinked at it, almost wincing as his sensitive pink eyes got a face full of green light, but he managed to maintain the 'eye contact,' or as loose as the term could mean at this point.

"Y'look like a cat's gotcher tongue, boy," the light dimmed, the shutter miming narrowing at him.

He thought about saying something, but speaking with a machine? He had seen some terrible things down here, but not enough to go completely insane just yet. Yes, he'd just read something about sentient technology, but if it was here, didn't that mean it was a failed test?

"Goddammit, I been down here for god knows how long and th'one damn feller I see can't even work up the stones t'say a damn thing," the voice groused, light bulb acting as though it were rolling its 'eye.'

"S'prob'ly 'cause y'heard 'bout me," the sphere said, causing Craig to do a double-take. Had the sphere been aware of what he was looking at?

"Yep, y'must've heard all 'bout th'dangerous _Adventure Sphere_ 'n how many men twice yer damn size I single-handedly kicked the ass of. S'okay, y'don't gotta be all too 'fraid 'less yer tryin' to 'sassinate me. But gotta say, it's a damn shame y'ain't one'a them pretty lady 'sassins y'hear 'bout. Good 'nough I s'pose, but since yer a gent 'sasssin, 'm gonna hafta kill ya if ya try any funny stuff," the sphere went on, making Craig's shoulders relax.

Evidently it didn't know which was simply relieving in the sense that Craig did not like the feeling of being monitored. The entire building gave him enough of that feeling all of the time. Well, time to experiment with just how intelligent this sphere was.

"I'm no assassin," Craig clarified, "I'm not a scientist either."

"Then what'n th'hell are ya? This's some science mumbo-jumbo place, innit? Why're you—OH. I get it, yer a damn SPY!" the sphere suddenly accused.

Craig rolled his own eyes as the single eye brightened threateningly, "No, I'm not a spy. I'm simply here looking for someone."

"Lookin' for yer damn target, y'can't fool me!"

"No! I'm not here to assassinate anyone or steal anything, I'm just looking for my-!" Craig stopped himself, realizing he was yelling at a metal ball for something that it wasn't the culprit. He took a deep breath before continuing, "I'm looking for someone to take them back home. Nothing more."

The green light narrowed at him, the meshed squares disappearing as the single rectangular pupil-like shape regarded him with a severe amount of scrutiny, "Can't tell if yer lyin' or not."

"Apparently I _can_ fool you," Craig huffed, "I'm not lying. I'm looking for my significant other."

Metal pinged together as the core blinked at him, "Significant oth—OH. I gotcha, yer lookin' for a lady, gonna go save yer damsel in distress?" the core puffed up a little, looking more excited about this than a spy.

Craig shut his eyes and rubbed his temples, "Not exactly. In fact, if he knew I was here, he might be upset with me."

That was met with a couple more blinks, "…So you're one'a _tho—"_

"You say something negative I will feed you to that horrible mantis monster I found a moment ago," Craig snapped, eyes narrowing.

"An' here I thoughtcha were jus' some weak-spined _nerd_," the core laughed.

That last word let something sink in that Craig had been trying to figure out for a long time now. The voice of the core was bothering him on a very personal level. It sounded familiar, but it didn't, all at once. It was obviously mechanical, computerized just enough to sound vaguely human. That _syntax_ is what suddenly struck him like lightning.

"…Rick?"

"Seems like I gotta reputation 'round these parts!" the core—or _Rick_ as it were, didn't deflate any, still looking like a preening bird.

Craig stepped away with his hand covering his mouth, mind going a mile a minute trying to review the information he'd just read on personality cores. There was talk of brain mapping and using employees; Rick being used to map out a core was entirely possible. Considering the man had a personality that was larger than life, it made Craig even more suspicious that a butchered copy of his boyfriend's mind was stuffed into that strange, back talking core.

His mouth curled into a snarl. Those _bastards_ were _not_ going to keep a damned souvenir when he got Rick out of here and left for good, never to look back. They would have not one scrap of him or Rick in this horrible, fucked up facility. With a growl he barely knew he could make, he gripped both handles on the core and began to haul it out of the box.

"WOAH, hold on there, son, calm down there!" the core cried, optic twisting and moving in a mild amount of confusion, "I know 'm a famous adventurer an' all, but jus' hold yer damn horses!"

With all of the effort Craig was expending to pull Rick from the box, there was no way he could answer him. He fumed and panted with effort, digging his heels into the tile with a jarring screech of his shoes. Rick's core body turned slightly just as Craig grunted with a heavy yank; they both went flying with the collapse of the grey panels of the box. The core's metal clanged on the floor, making Craig jump as he fell on his backside. He threw his arms over his head to try to protect it from flying heavy pieces of metal coming at him, but Rick did nothing but roll, much to his anger.

"Hey! Kid, goddammit, you an' yer damn noodle arms put a dent in me!" he growled, optic spinning around to glare at Craig.

The shouting got him to lower his arms, seeing Rick not too far from him. He sighed in relief, but really wondered if he could carry him through the entire trip to find the _real_ Rick.

"The tough-guy adventurer can't take a hit?" Craig said in a faux-saccharine voice, pulling himself to his feet to stand over the core.

"Yeah, yeah, get me off'a th'damn floor, wouldja?" Rick turned his hands inward in the best imitation of crossing his arms as he could manage.

"You're coming with me," Craig informed him, stooping into a lifting position.

"I didn't volunteer for no search-an'-rescue mission t'go find yer little boyfriend!"

Craig was happy to find that the core was a lot easier to lift from the floor than from the box. Still, he wasn't sure if toting him around was going to be possible. The blond already swore he was going to drag both Rick and this core out of here, so there was no getting around it. Stopping to rest was just going to happen a lot more often. He tucked Rick the Adventure Core under his arm and started for the door before even addressing the core's issue with being basically kidnapped.

"I'm taking you out of here, too," Craig informed him.

The Adventure Core made a sound similar to a frustrated sigh, "Look, son, if y'think yer gonna impress me or summat by extendin' this rescue mission t'me, y'got 'nother thing comin'. Don't why don'tcha do yer pansy-ass a favor an' put me back, yeah?"

Craig scowled but didn't even look down at the core, already starting down the hallway toward a railway that definitely didn't look like it would lead back to the horrible abomination he'd seen earlier. The robotic sphere with him couldn't fight him, just yell insults. So he stayed silent, feeling slightly accomplished no matter how many gay-related or girly-man-related insults the green-eyed robot could think up. Surprisingly, just as they entered the railway into a larger part of the facility, it was silent between them except for the sound of Craig's shoes hitting the metal.

It was peaceful, thankfully. It gave Craig a chance to glance over the rail to see just how high they were. He couldn't see the bottom; with a shiver, he kept his gaze ahead. It was dark, though an eerie blue ambience made it light enough to see where they were walking, plus no matter where the core was looking, his green light still provided some sort of comfort in that Craig knew where he was going to step next. Pipes lined the walls that looked like they were carved out of stone. They were all marked, but it was too dark to make out what they said. Given the information he already had on this terrible place, Craig had a sinking feeling he didn't want to know.

"Look," the Adventure core finally piped up again, making Craig jump, "If y'ain't gonna put me back down, y'mind at least hearin' me th'hell out?"

Thoughts that it was crazy to reason with a machine were long gone from Craig's mind. His arms were already tired and he was all too glad to put the core down so he could rest. The walkway had rails, but he didn't trust it, so instead of setting the green robot down, he sat with it sitting in his lap.

The green light moved several times, the sound of shifting gears were mixed with Craig's breathing, trying to bring his heart rate down.

"Eh, y'mind?" the core piped up, wiggling his handlebars at the arms clutched tightly around his core body.

Craig hadn't even noticed, but he immediately mumbled an apology and moved his hands to rest on the cold metal rail. It was unconscious, but understandable that he'd be clinging to the first sign of Rick he'd come across in over a year, or even just in the time that he'd been here.

Core Rick's optic turned to look at him, "S'alright, kid. Y'look… well, y'look a little worse fer wear, considerin'."

"Remember that mantis monster I was threatening you with? It was making a valiant attempt to eat me," Craig said with a mirthless laugh, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

"A whosa-whatsit?" the core's green eye blinked at him, extending out in simulated disbelief.

"You heard me. It was a, if I had to guess, probably ten-foot tall, flesh-colored insect that thought I was its dinner."

Rick stared, adding to the heavy situation with equally heavy silence for a long moment, "Yer kiddin' me. Skinny britches like you went up 'gainst a big-ass monster like that?"

"I didn't kill it, if that's what you meant. I got away unscathed, thankfully," Craig sighed, not really wishing to recall the horrifying incident.

A piercing whistling sound emitted from the core, "Damn, y'managed all that by yerself, trooper?"

"Do you see anyone but _you_ with me?"

"Hah, got a new kinda respect for ya, then. Little, but tough, looks like."

At that, Craig had to crack a very tiny smile. Earning respect from a machine, yes, but it still cheered him. That is, until he remembered that sounded exactly like something Rick had said to him. Verbatim. God, not the thing he needed to remember right now. He covered his face with both hands to hide the sudden depressed expression.

"Gotta be a lucky guy, seein' as he's got one deceptive fighter lookin' out for him," Rick said suddenly, which made Craig sputter with more genuine laughter.

"Tch! 'm tryin' t'be decent here an' yer laughin' at me!" the Adventure core scoffed and turned away, "See if I try'n be nice t'th'guy draggin' me outta that box for hell knows why."

"No, no, you don't understand," Craig managed, affectionately patting the top of the core's hull, "You wouldn't say that if you knew."

Servos whirred as the core's green optic shifted to focus back on Craig, "Knew what, huh?"

For a moment, the blond regarded the sphere in his lap with a touch of ironic amusement; telling a copy of Rick about well, _Rick _was kind of strange, as much as they were similar. It acted sentient and as though it had feelings, so Craig felt it had a right to know why he was dragging him along, even if thinking about the real person behind the robot's intelligence squeezed his heart in a very unpleasant way.

Craig reached into his shirt and pulled out Rick's dogtags, holding them up for examination, "These were his. It isn't as though he's a pushover, trust me."

The green optic zoomed in slightly to get a better look, "Army guy, huh? What's that name there… _Richard Sargento_? Huh?"

"Rick," Craig corrected, his expression a little rueful, "Everyone called him Rick."

The shutters on the Adventure Core's optic narrowed suspiciously, but Craig continued, hiding the tags back under his shirt, "He was honorably discharged a long time ago with a leg injury no one thought he'd get up from. From what he used to tell me, it was a grenade explosion with shrapnel right to the knee."

Talk of explosions and honorable injuries got the core's eye to open wider in obvious wonderment, even on his lack of a face. Craig smiled faintly, amused and appreciative that his new companion was impressed with the man that provided him with a mind. The injury was a touchy subject for Rick back then, but even when Craig insisted he didn't have to spill the story if he didn't want; Rick felt it was important to tell him. It took a long time for him to walk without a limp, even after they were together. It was personal and if this weren't Rick's copy, he wouldn't have mentioned it at all.

"Pf, well I guess it sounds like he checks out for sharin' a name with me," the core decided, "Any less badass than that an' no dice, kiddo."

"Craig."

"Eh?"

"That's my name, it's Craig," the man repeated, shaking his head, "He always had a problem calling me by my first name, too. Though I didn't mind the names he called me so much."

Core Rick turned away a moment, humming thoughtfully, "Y'know. I been thinkin'. I wasn't doin' all too much in that damn box anyway. Guess I ought'a help a stringbean like ya keep from getting' hurt."

Craig rolled his eyes, "Why thank you. I appreciate it."

"Anytime, skinny britches, now getcher ass up and let's find that badass'a yers thatcher missin'!" core Rick piped up cheerily, swinging around to look at Craig with a lifted bottom eye shutter.

The sarcasm in Craig's voice was apparently missed completely, but that look resembled a smile so much that he couldn't help but smile a little in return. Even if things looked bleak, the sphere's enthusiasm was infectious. Craig gripped both of his handles and carefully stood, doing his best to arrange the sphere in his hands in such a way where he could carry him for a while longer without tiring. Eventually, with both arms wrapped around the bottom of his hull, they were on their way walking down the seemingly unending rail.

The sound of dripping water started to fill Craig's ears and he almost wished the prideful sphere in his hands would talk just to get the sound out of mind. The vastness of the chamber and the apparent bottomless drop on either side of them made him endlessly uneasy. For the little time he had spent with his mechanical companion, he was panicking over the thought of accidentally dropping him into the abyss and never hearing from him again. Not only was he the only scrap of Rick he had at the moment, but he was starting to feel responsible for his safety and well-being. As much as it was relieving to have something else to worry about other than Rick's state, it still made his hands shake slightly as they walked.

"Quit rockin' th'boat, wouldja?" the sphere finally piped up.

"I'm _sorry_, it's not particularly comfortable down here for me," Craig groused, shifting his grip as carefully as he could manage.

"Scared'a small spaces or somethin'?" core Rick sounded curious, but Craig could detect the note of condescension there.

"Scared I might _drop_ you," he huffed, pointedly moving his gaze away from either side of them, keeping it straight ahead.

"We ain't that far from a control station, don't getcher panties in a bunch."

Insult aside, Craig stopped and stared down at the metal ball in his arms, "How do you know that?"

"Eh?" core Rick swung his optic around to stare back, "Oh I 'unno, jus' do. Must be someplace in th'noggin."

With that vague assurance that something must be programmed into him, Craig wasn't sure if he should just trust this instinct. After all, there was plenty reason and likelihood for the robot to guide him into a trap and none whatsoever for him to so willingly offer his assistance to Craig. There wasn't any other choice, though, so he continued forward, hoping that Rick's integrity managed to make it into the ball of gears, bravado, and sass.


	4. The Shock

The rail felt like it was going on forever. Craig's new companion insisted that there was a resting point up ahead and refused to let him stop for now. As much as it was pleasant to have someone to talk to, to encourage him, that forceful manner was both helpful and draining. Everything about this place felt like a leech and he was tired. Not just physically, but he was weary as a whole. It was too much not to fret about what was happening to Rick right now and if he was alright. His mind kept telling him he only knew a fraction of what Aperture was capable of, but he truly didn't want to think about what _might_ happen. No, he… he had to stay positive.

Thankfully, it seemed the core Rick was correct. A small, unoccupied office ended the railway and the door was even unlocked. Assorted switchboards and computers lined the walls with a singular window that was just next to the door, lined with a wire mesh to prevent breakage. It gave it a rather important look, all pristine and nearly dangerous in the atmosphere.

"Hey, over there, y'see that plug back there? Hook me up, partner an' I'll see what I kin do t'help ya out," the Adventure core wiggled his handles toward a large set of prongs sticking out of one of the panels to the far left.

Craig lifted the core out in front of him, peering around him for some kind of indicator of where his port would be and thinking about how a talking, sentient computer would regard such things. He shook it off, better not to even bother to ask. Wondering about phantom limb syndrome and the horrors of not quite having a face were things he needed to push out of his mind fast. Thinking about Rick going through those things was not something he was willing to bear. The core didn't even know whose mind he shared currently; it was likely that was not trauma he ever had to experience.

After a moment's fumbling, Craig plugged core Rick into place and sat at rolling desk chair, peering at the consoles. Everything looked complicated and delicate, but it only took him a moment to realize they were in a complicated sort of lift.

"This is an elevator," Craig said aloud suddenly, upon the discovery.

"Yep, jus' gotta punch in yer fella's name over there," the core shook his handles again to a keyboard just to his left, moving to the best of his ability now that he was plugged in, "An' I'll run a nice lil' search for ya."

"You're able to do that without tripping up their security?" the blond raised an eyebrow, "I refuse to believe this is an open, unsecured network."

"Well. I dunno that bit jus' yet, but are ya gonna tell me I can't raise a little fuss when he's jus' an enter button away?" core Rick did his best impression of raising a single eyebrow at him when he just had one handle to do it with.

"…And you'll be able to see wherever he is?"

"Yep. Give'er a go, kid."

Without any more argument, Craig began to carefully tap out the characters of Rick's full name. His robotic companion was right; so long as he could _find_ him, they would have an easier time getting _out._ As much as he was beginning to become attached to the core with him, having the real Rick carry him would be a lot easier on his poor arms. A huge stack of books and photographs in the archive didn't compare to that ball of servos and metal.

"There. Richard Sargento," Craig read aloud, glancing at the green core.

That green optic dimmed slightly and the sound of moving parts started up inside of him again. His eye shutters closed slightly and Craig had a panicked moment where he thought he was losing _both_ Ricks at the same time. Thankfully, the core brightened back up and the whole room shook for a moment. It stopped and began to sink into the blackness beneath the rail. Craig gripped the edge of the desk, mind working furiously in an attempt to come up with something to say to his absent lover when they reunited. That long-familiar ache in his chest was stronger than ever—being around Rick's core-self made Craig miss him all the more.

"So you found him," Craig said in a very hushed voice.

"Goin' down, compadre," core Rick muttered, "Found what level yer man's on."

"Further descending into hell," Craig mumbled to himself, trying hard not to watch the moving scenes behind the glass outside of the control room, "I hope this hell's Hades prefers disjointed knowledge and facts, I don't have a lyre."

The Adventure Core tried his best to regard Craig with some wary curiosity, like the man had gone insane. They would see soon enough. Sanity seemed like a sparse thing in a place like this. Just as he was accustomed, Craig pulled the chain and dogtags from under his shirt. Then, he began to count. Everything was in order. All the beads were there. Everything would be alright. He'd be with Rick very, very shortly.

"Why d'ya do that?" core Rick asked quietly.

The man didn't answer immediately. He wasn't finished counting. Finally, he gripped the tags in his palm. The metal digging into his skin did its best to right his nerves, but the ache in his chest and the digging at his stomach was still unbearable.

"This is my constant," he looked up at the core's green eye, "If this stays, if this is the same, everything else will be as it once was."

It didn't make sense, but core Rick didn't question. Craig's worry and anxieties were only ever quelled marginally and right now, only by these tags. Rick made a promise. They were given to Craig and he swore to come back. They were nothing but a symbol of that steady promise. One that Craig intended to make sure Rick would keep.

The control room elevator shook and finally stopped. A door opened and with a heavy, anxious sigh, Craig stood from the chair. Core Rick was removed from the plug and they both left without shutting the door behind them. They would come back with one more, Craig reasoned. Best to make sure that didn't leave without them.

For a level that Craig assumed people worked on, there was a lot of shadow and not much light. Signs that should have directed them where to go were too dark for Craig to read, too worn to read by the light of core Rick's eye. It didn't matter. He trusted the core he carried, though he had no reason to; he simply had the same trustworthiness the original Rick had. It made him comfortable as they walked through the darkness.

"Four," the Adventure sphere finally piped up after the walkway narrowed into a hall.

"Pardon me?"

"Dunno, somethin' 'bout the number four's what I read on all that," he did his best impression of a shrug.

The doors that had knobs on them were also marked with an intimidating number that seemed to glow faintly in the dark. Assumedly, it did glow to allow workers know which door they wanted in this strange, deathly quiet part of the facility. They passed the first and several more blank doors followed it. Though there was no abyss beneath them anymore, Craig still felt nervous with solid floor on his feet. Cramped space never made him uneasy, but he just didn't know what to expect.

Where _were_ they? What was the purpose of this place? It didn't look like it was for offices, perhaps it was storage. That only left him wondering just what Rick was doing poking around in the storage parts of Aperture. Knowing him, it would either be something to _do_ or some kind of escape plan. Craig would be all too happy to help refine a plan of escape.

"There, kid, there!" the core shifted excitedly, casting his green glowing gaze on a white number four.

Craig's heart skipped a beat and he took a calming deep breath before he grasped he knob and turned it. The door swung open easily, a low turquoise light coming from inside. Unused to sudden light, Craig squinted and dragged them both into the room. A table to the immediate right held papers that Craig did not pay any mind to at all. It was a good place to set the Adventure Core while he explained to Rick the whole deal when he found him. Confused, the core swung around to look at him.

"Hey! Hey, wait where're you-!" the sphere tried to call after Craig as he moved into the room toward the turquoise-blue lights.

"Rick?" Craig said, voice echoing in the chamber.

The ceiling was low, probably just barely big enough for a six and a half foot tall person and very long. Craig couldn't see the end of it, as much as the room was barely ten feet wide. Oddly shaped room, though the only things that seemed to fill it were six-foot long tables all emitting that strangely colored light. They were spread out every couple of feet for the length of the room, sitting right next to three panels that stacked on top of one another. The panels each had a plaque that Craig couldn't read, but he wasn't looking anyway.

"Rick, where are you?" he called again, hoping that the core wasn't mistaken and this whole ordeal could be over.

Nervously, Craig turned around and scooped the door back up, eyebrows drawn together with the worry that the metal ball might've been wrong, "He's a ways down there," core Rick assured him, gesturing with a flick of his handlebar.

The atmosphere in the room did not help calm his nerves at all. Craig walked back down the room, trying not to glance at the tables that made him a little uneasy. The purpose of the room was still unclear, but since the Adventure core was so sure… The man's footsteps echoed in the mostly empty room, giving him the feeling that there was someone else there, though there wasn't. Nearing the back of the room, Craig sighed and turned back with his head lowered.

Dead end, it seemed. Trying not to let his crushing disappointment show, he looked away from the Adventure core, idly scanning the panels and tables—until a name caught his eye. As though his feet were glued to the floor, Craig halted and dropped core Rick on the floor with a clang. The ball made a soft 'ow' sound and rolled enough to see Craig, intent on chewing him out, but stopped before the words left his processor.

The blond's pink eyes were wide behind his glasses and his mouth fell open in disbelief. It seemed he didn't even register he'd dropped the robot because soon he was crashing to the floor, knees cracking on the hard surface.

"No," he murmured, tone flat.

Unsteadily, he dragged himself to the bottom panel next to the table he'd dropped to the floor, "No. NO," he repeated, his voice gaining a harsh edge.

The bottom panel's plaque read in clear, new lettering: _RICHARD SARGENTO: DECEASED._

"_**NO!**_" Craig roared, fists meeting the panel with a useless thump.

As if it understood, a drawer slid out and encased in a glass coffin was his long lost lover. Craig's face turned paper white and he pressed his hands to the covering just over Rick's chest. There was no sign of violence, no wound or any sign of how he died, he looked peaceful in his final resting place. Unsure of what to think, how to act, Craig pressed his forehead to the glass, only just noticing the stream of tears flowing down his face to pool on the clear coffin.

"No, no, no, it's not true, it can't be true," he whispered to himself, trying to make it so the body could hear him.

Craig could barely lift himself, but he looked just like he remembered. It was like Rick would lift his head and smile that goofy smile that made Craig fall in love with him. He'd just sit up and wrap Craig's shaking form up in a crushing hug and everything would be alright. If only he could just open his green eyes and tell Craig to his face that everything was going to be alright, that he still loved him and now they could go home!

"It's not fair," the blond sobbed, fogging the coffin as he gasped and curled over it, "It's not FAIR. You were supposed to come _back_… Rick, please come back. _Please_, I miss you. I wish you never left, _please!"_

Shakily, he managed to sit up enough to yank the dog tags from his neck to press them where Rick should see them if he would just _open his eyes_, "I brought them back. You promised you'd come for these. You _PROMISED!_ You promised to come back for _me!_ Rick… _Rick, please._"

With his body draped over the last remnants of the man he loved, nothing in the world could matter right now. Nothing would ever matter again, they were supposed to have a _life_ together. Craig's whole body shook, barely able to handle the grief that struck him right down to the core. Coming here was useless, trying to bring him back home was futile; nothing mattered anymore. The only person who had ever made him hopeful was gone. Stolen from him when he had nothing better in his life.

"I'm… I'm going to get them for this. They're going to pay for taking you," Craig sputtered as he wiped his face with his sleeve, "They can't get away with this, it's not fair."

His other sleeve cleaned off the glass where he could better see Rick's serene face. There was no feasible way to get his body out and bury it properly. It wasn't going to happen, no matter how Craig thought about it. Even his burial would be nothing but use for this horrific place. Rick was dressed in an orange jumpsuit with a number the archivist couldn't make out. It didn't matter. He already knew they wanted to _hide_ this from sight, from Rick's loved ones. If Craig had not found his body himself, he would never have known he was here.

"I promise," Craig said in a hushed, reverent voice, "I promise they'll regret this. I promise."

With no idea how to carry out his revenge, Craig pressed a kiss to the glass over Rick's head, "I love you. I love you," just as he thought he could handle getting out of here again, the tears started again as he repeated the words over and over until his voice was hoarse.

Nothing else could be done for the remains. Craig's hands were trembling violently as he pushed the drawer back into the wall. Scrambling across the floor, he picked up the core and clung to it desperately. This robot who didn't remember him was the last piece of Rick he would ever have.

"I'm sorry," Craig breathed, "I'm sorry you have to see all this."

Pressed tightly against Craig's chest, there wasn't much the core could do about it. Right now, the mourning man was just glad he wasn't asked to put him down and go away. There was no one else here, there was no one he could turn to; he was all alone except for the green core in his arms. One last shred of the only person he'd wanted a future with. Soon, it felt like he'd drained himself of any moisture, he just held the core tightly while curled up on the floor.

Finally, core Rick spoke up, "…Kid?" he began, eye shifting in an attempt to look him in the face, "…Okay, Craig. Craig, talk t'me, buddy."

Exhausted, Craig pulled core Rick away from his chest enough to look at his green eye. From the sphere's perspective, the blond looked like he'd been knocked out for good. Down and out, as they say; he wasn't up for another round. Though, one thing he knew about the skinny man was that he was really _fucking_ determined. It was definitely something the core admired about him. He trusted that Craig still had it in him.

"Look, I know… well. I dunno how to say this, but… I'm real sorry. If I'd have known it was gonna be—"

"It's fine. I don't blame you," the archivist muttered, "I'm… I'm glad I found him. Thank you."

The shutters on his eye opened a little wider. Just how in the world did that forlorn, defeated face tug at his imaginary heartstrings so bad? Sure, he was in trouble and helping those in distress was just part of the adventurer programming, but it went beyond helping him. Though still in the dark, he had a feeling he understood a little. Why the guy was dragging him around, why he was clinging to him now, why they got along and didn't all at once. It was falling into place, at least.

"I hate to break it to ya, bucko, but stickin' round one place prob'ly ain't the best idea for ya," the core warned, glancing back toward the doorway, "Only one escape an' if y'get cornered…"

Despondently, Craig nodded and sat up to push up his glasses and wipe his eyes. There was no revenge, no payback if he got caught. In this place, god only knew what would happen to him if he did get detained.

"That's the spirit," the little sphere encouraged, but Craig only sat him on his knees to rest a moment, "…Gonna go after'em?"

The man lifted his head, "I'm… I'm… Yes. I am. I'm going to make them pay."

His hands balled into fists on Rick's bottom bar. That was exactly what he wanted to see. Knowing that Craig was not just going to give up meant he could help the man a little easier. His inner workings clicked for a moment, a thoughtful sort of sound while he thought up a direction, a plan of action.

"Got any clue whatcha wanna do?"

"Not at all," Craig admitted, running a hand through his hair with a tired sigh.

"Well, look here," core Rick began, eye shutters narrowing, "I gotta question."

"You're basically a computer; that seems kind of… silly."

"Hear me out, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah. Sorry, go on," Craig shrugged, seeming distressed again.

Because of that, the Adventure core wasn't sure he wanted to ask this question… but it needed to be answered, "Look. Am… am I, y'know, him? Not exactly, 'course, but… I act a whole lot like him, right?"

That was a strange question. Craig couldn't recall letting him in on that at all, he raised an eyebrow, "You share the same name, syntax, accent, ego, and mannerisms, which I didn't think was possible," he confessed, "I… read something before I accidentally activated you."

"YOU did that?" he blinked his eye several times, realizing he had a lot to be grateful to Craig for.

"Yes. It said that most of the functioning, operational personality cores were bases from an existing personality," Craig sighed, "His voice was deeper than yours and you don't remember me or probably anything of his life, but I think… you are what's left of him. The only remaining part of Richard Sargento alive."

While Craig tried to keep himself under control, core Rick was nodding in his casing thoughtfully. His hunch was correct. That meant he knew exactly where to go, based on what he'd seen in the computer database.

"Alright, partner. I have a plan. Do you trust me?" the Adventure core asked very seriously.

The way he said it sounded just like something Rick would have said to him a long, long time ago. It very nearly squeezed his heart, but it was exactly what he needed to hear right now. There was someone here he could rely on, as inhuman as they were. Craig nodded.

"…Yes. I do. What is your plan?"

The core brightened up at the man's firm expression, "Look, I wasn't made down where y'found me, right?" he started, waiting for Craig to nod, "There's a whole damn wing couple floors up, they make the parts an' program the bots. That's where they made me, that's where you're gonna want to go."

Without a thought as to what they would do when they got there, Craig pulled himself to his feet and wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket. He clutched the core close to his body and glanced at the plate with Rick's name embossed on the metal. This was his only grave; Craig knew that and wished to god he had something to leave in his memory. Right now, he had a jacket in a harshly cold facility, a core guiding nearly every move, and a set of dog tags—_Rick's_ dog tags. He couldn't give those back. Water welled up in his eyes again, knowing he couldn't give them back because Rick hadn't kept his promise.

Craig carried the core out of that room and didn't look back. He kept his head down, but the Adventure Core could see his face. For the benefit of both of them, he stayed silent all the way back to the elevator. The blond only looked up to properly plug his core companion into the console without hurting him. Even inside, Rick didn't bother to tell Craig what floor they were ascending to; leaving Craig to sit, remove his glasses, and hold his head in his hands.

There was a long journey to hell, descending into the darkness, but Hades didn't want to hear the lyre Craig hadn't known to bring. He was a good detective, but a terrible Orpheus. Then again, Orpheus hadn't been able to bring back Eurydice either.

The only thing that shook him out of those thoughts was the room shifting and rising. Now they were on the journey back out of hell. Craig pulled his chair closer to the console and laid his head down on his crossed arms.

"Get some rest there, partner, got a few stories 'head of us," the core reassured him with a cursory tap with his bottom handlebar to the man's arm.

Determined to face this properly, Craig sat up and shook his head, "No. I don't want to get caught. Do you know the time?"

Rick's green eye dimmed for a second, "It's 'bout sixteen hundred hours."

"Everyone will be gone when we're up there. We can rest then."

That look of being beaten to hell hadn't left the skinny man, Rick noticed. He sounded so sure about it that he didn't argue.

"Floor Negative 3 and going up," he muttered, his voice echoing metallically.


	5. The Office

There was nothing of use in the elevator for the next part of the journey. Craig looked dead on his feet, but he still scoured the crevices of the place to find anything, a flashlight, water, food. Not that his own self-preservation was really his first priority, but he felt a strange kind of responsibility for the core helping him through all of this. That core hadn't known he was Rick; now Craig felt the urge to keep going and protect the core, which meant he needed to care for himself, too.

"Hey, Craig, kiddo, we're comin' up on the floor, better hide," the core called from across the room.

That made the archivist frown, noting that it was suggested he abandon the core in favor of his own safety. It was precisely the opposite of Craig's intention. Still, from a hiding spot, he had more of an advantage to sneak up on someone or sneak away with the Adventure Sphere while they weren't looking. Craig wedged himself in the furthest corner of the elevator, thanking whomever built this hell that it was L-shaped. From his place, he could watch the entrance through the opaque windows surrounding the elevator. If he kept still, he would remain unseen and be able to plan accordingly based on who climbed into the room.

Several minutes passed. The blond could see his mechanical companion moving slightly. It seemed they got lucky this time and it was late enough for most of the employees to be gone for the day. Still cautious, Craig poked his head around the bend of the elevator and checked the surroundings.

"Coast's clear, s'far as I can tell," Rick announced.

Without a word, Craig carefully detached the core from the console and cradled him with the utmost care against his chest. Only when he was certain that his grip was firm and Rick unable to fall did he leave the elevator. The hallway was quiet and though Craig put faith in Rick's analysis of the area, he did not trust this place at all. The core kept quiet as the archivist shuffled away from the elevator, heightening the silence around them to a palpable level. The hallway was a narrow one, much like the cold storage chambers they had been in earlier. Thankfully, it was brightly lit, despite no one allegedly in the area. It didn't remind Craig of that storage chamber at all, though the similarity was noted. Now that he had gotten himself under control, he did not intend on letting his grip on that self-control loosen in the least. His whole reason for being here was dead, but now he had a new one.

The way was lined with offices, all with a fogged glass window and a title written on the wood below. All of them belonged to very accomplished scientists, by the accolades and titles surrounding their names. It all looked very scholarly and quite plain upon first glance; innocuous was not the word the man would use to describe any portion of what he had seen previously. It was almost jarring that nothing was... outwardly wrong. It made him more nervous, if that was possible, like one of those horrendous monsters he'd seen would come and try to kill him again or perhaps a corpse covered in oil instead of blood might fall from one of the closed doors. Unconciously, Craig shuddered, making the green light from Rick's core swivel to glance up at him. Tactfully, he didn't ask what the matter was. Craig probably could not have answered very well in the first place.

All in all, it looked more like a place where legitimate, ethical science was done. Where top scientists did their research and drafted their scientific journals, instead of plotting on how to warp and abuse the human body in ways one should never even conceive much less actually carry out. Unfortunately, because of that very fact, it was not a safe place to stop. Someone would inevitably come back here in the morning and security would be tight because of the importance of those people. Though, as far as he could tell, the security in the entire facility was frighteningly lax. Craig's shoulders slumped just enough for the core to notice and he turned in his chassis quickly.

"Keep movin', partner, we ain't there jus' yet," he assured the blond.

Craig glanced down and shook his head slightly, to chase off the exhaustion. His eyes felt bloodshot and heavy; he knew if he stopped walking, it might be impossible to keep going. Barely glancing at the doors any longer, he kept his head down and briskly moved down the corridor. The main hallway branched off occasionally, but each time Craig glanced toward the left or right turns, the core shook his head. He was the one with the plan, so the archivist just quietly continued. The almost mechanical strides that kept him going weren't on his mind and the longer he went on, the less attention he paid to what Rick was telling him, slightly muffled against his jacket and already quieted to a volume better suited for tomb-like reverence. Instructions on where to go were followed, however, even if Craig didn't quite pay attention to them; the core in his grasp jerked and waved his handlebars in the directions he wanted the man to go. That was easier to follow that words.

Rick led him down a set of much less prestigious looking doorways. In fact, most of the wood was cheap and splintering, almost none of them had glass windows. Those that did were tiny and lined with metal to prevent cracks and shattering. The much lower budget area, if Craig had the mind to guess. Workers that were paid much, much less, but still needed an office. No one would be able to look inside without opening the doors. The blond sighed in relief; he could take a short rest. The very last door on down this particular hallway was what he eventually settled on. There was a nameplate on the outside that he didn't even glance at because the door wasn't locked, he didn't care. It was smudged, blurred and unreadable even if he had. The hinges creaked jarringly, making Craig flinch, but he crept inside of the dark office anyway. Being underground, there were no windows. With hands that were shaking more than he'd like to admit, the man flipped on the office lightswitch to flood the room with a sickly yellow light.

It was a small, cramped space, filled to the brim with cardboard boxes full of both blank and filled paper, all with ones, zeros, and complicated programming code if they were printed on. Craig could not read binary nor computer codes all too well and especially not right now, so he left them alone. The desk was cleaner-until Craig saw the drawers with corners of paper sticking out in various directions. Rick seemed more interested in the picture on the desk, his shutters narrowed at the people in it. After a long searching stare, he looked up at the blond.

"Huh," he said thoughtfully, "Mebbe we shouldn't stay in here. Looks like someone's gonna come back."

"The door locks," Craig sighed, looking more and more tired by the second, "I just... need to rest a while."

The core couldn't argue with that, but it still put him on edge. It wasn't like he was in much of a place to protect the poor guy, as much as he'd like to. Still, Craig picked up the small cracked frame out of distant curiosity. Three people were in the shot, an older woman with greying blonde hair with her arms around two young men. The older of the two was an overweight man who looked just short of middle-aged with glasses and a crooked smile; the second was a good deal younger, but still an adult. He looked more like the woman, with a round face and blond hair. It was unclear which of the three was the owner of the desk, all of them were old enough to be some kind of long-term desk worker, or an intern of some kind. They looked cozy; Craig assumed that they were family of some sort, even if the older man looked out of place with his reddish hair contrasting to the dirty blonde of the others. He set the frame back down next to a wooden toy bird; the kind that sat on long legs and tilted back and forth, probably in the glass of cloudy water next to it. The reminder that real people worked here was not a very welcome one. People with families and people with quirks and dreams and all those things that made one sympathetic.

No one in this facility kept that in mind while they had killed Richard Sargento.

The Adventure Core must have seen the melancholy start to seep into Craig's body language because he started to move again, doing his best to push the blond toward the corner with his handlebars pressing into his chest.

"C'mon, y'need t'sleep at least a little if ya can," he insisted, sounding a touch more motherly than was typical for the core supposedly all about bravado.

It made the corners of Craig's mouth even out-the best sort of smile one would get out of him. Gently, he set the green personality sphere on the desk and dragged the desk chair from under it. It was jammed under the doorknob to block the door after he locked it. The person who worked in here would have a key, he wasn't so tired as to forget that. Once he felt a fraction more safe, he picked Rick back up and settled into the corner of the office, somewhat hidden by a supply cabinet. The core rested on his crossed legs and Craig pulled off his jacket for some kind of covering, draping it over his shoulders. Possessively, his arms wrapped around Rick as best he could and his cheek rested on top of his chassis. It wasn't comfortable, but Craig did not care. Right now, afraid, cold, hungry, and full of despair-this was as content as he was going to get.

"Good night, Rick," the man murmured very quietly, his pink eyes shut and his eyebrows drawn together.

"...Good... Good night, darlin'," he responded, too quiet for Craig to hear.

Silence fell over the two of them and Rick kept a close eye on the door. Best he could do, keep still and keep watch. He was used to waiting long periods of time with nothing to do or say. This time... he had a lot to think about, though; namely the frail blond clinging to his chassis and exactly what his relationship to that man was. Even with no recollection of the personality Rick had been before now, the core could see just what was so endearing about Craig to someone so similar to himself.

Respectfully, he dimmed the green light behind his optic, though he could already tell the archivist was long asleep. Good, the sphere thought to himself, he damn well needs some rest.

Hours passed and Rick kept a close eye on his internal clock, just how long Craig had been sleeping, and the noise outside of the office door. It was impossible to see if it was daylight yet or not, but around eight o'clock the next morning, the handle shook and jiggled. Rick blinked at it for a moment before realizing someone was trying to get in! As quietly as he could, Rick tried to nudge the inevitably exhausted man with his handlebars. The sound of keys on the other side and some muffled speech signaled there wasn't much time. The blond moved only slightly with a tired groan and a muffled sound that might've been Rick's name.

"Hey! Hey, Craig, c'mon wake up, four-eyes, dammit!" Rick urged him in as loud a whisper as he dared, "Someone's comin'!"

That did more of the trick. Craig sat up and rubbed his eyes under his glasses, peering blearily around for the source of noise. The doorknob moved again, temporarily jammed by the desk chair. Craig's pink eyes flew open wide and he scrambled to his feet, hurriedly stashing the Adventure Core behind a set of boxes and pressing his finger to his lips to shush the core before tossing his jacket over his hull to hide him. Without much more of a plan than that, Craig crept behind the door opposite the side it would open and waited for the angry slamming noises to stop. Whoever used this office was determined to get inside of it.

Muffled, angry swears could be heard underneath the cracks of the door. The voice sounded male, leaving out one of the people Craig saw in that picture. Half of a thought crossed his mind that he would need to defend himself and he snatched the chair from under the doorknob. The door flung open and someone stumbled inside with a loud OOF. The archivist held the chair up in front of himself to keep the door from slamming into him while the owner of the office righted himself with a few mumbled words that he couldn't hear of the blood pounding in his ears.

"Damned, bloody door, thought I fixed it sticking like that," a voice grumbled, "Simple logic, really, it locks, it sticks. I didn't lock it! Who in their right mind would mess with another bloke's door!"

Footsteps approached and Craig tensed, too cramped in to lift the chair like he intended. A good blow to the head would keep the office worker silent, if only he could get a good swing. The door moved and by the time Craig had enough space to move at all, he was staring at a man not all too much older than himself. Both men gaped at each other, Craig gripping the chair tight enough that his knuckles were white. This was definitely the overweight man in the picture, blue eyes, red hair, and a pair of glasses were unmistakeable.

Now that the door was shut, the blond lifted the chair at the man, attempting to snarl, but only managing a terrified expression, "Stay away from me, it takes much less force than one might think to cause a concussion!" he sputtered out.

The employee's hands shot up in front of him, "Ahh, haha, okay mate, c-calm down there," he stuttered nervously.

Even though Craig was thinner, shorter, and just generally smaller, the threat seemed to be enough, even if it was just the threat of trouble that put the employee on the defensive. He shoved the chair in the other man's direction as an indication to move. The redhead stumbled backward after a moment's confusion, letting Craig come away from the door.

"Look, I have to be completely... one-hundred percent honest," he began, hands still up in surrender, "If you're one of those spies they always squawk about, you are in the wrong place, yes sir."

"I'm not a thief," Craig spat, gripping the backrest of the chair so the legs were pointed at the employee, "I just want to leave."

"OH! By all means, just... go right on ahead then, please don't let me stop you," the employee laughed nervously, gesturing toward the door, "Nope, I didn't see a bloody thing, swear on my life, cross my heart, hope to die, all that business."

Craig's eyes darted over where he had hidden the Adventure Sphere and back over to the English man in front of him. If he was already swearing he didn't see anything... This would certainly make him _look_ like a thief. Still, the archivist corralled the man behind his desk with motions of the chair and set it down, quickly gathering up Rick as best he could with his jacket covering him. A scoffing, disbelieving sound came from behind him, but there was no point in sticking around to get accused of lying.

Just when Craig whipped around to head out the door, the employee was blocking the way, "That, where... where did you get that," he said, sounding like weary and like his tongue had gotten much bigger in his mouth, words thick with anxiety.

Rick's chassis whirled around to look at the employee as best he could, optic shutters narrowed, "Get th'hell outta the way, tubby!"

Every bit of color drained from the man's face at that moment, "Oh," he said simply, in a very quiet way.

Using his handles to push Craig's coat out of the way, Rick faced his companion, "Jus' push'im out of the way, he ain't troublin' nobody but himself."

"No. Noooo nononono, you can't go anywhere," the man nearly wheezed, looking a little faint, "I know that voice, I KNOW."

Craig made a pained face, not knowing what in the world that could mean. All he knew is that they had to _leave_ before any other trouble showed up. He approached the employee with the intent on pushing him out of the way with all his force, but brashly, the redheaded man put his hands on Craig's shoulders.

"No you... you can't go out there, they're going to be searching for you, to do terrible, unspeakable things to you!" he raved, making Craig recoil.

"Get outta the damn way," Rick snarled, trying to hit the man with his handles with no success.

"Craig," the employee said, making the owner of that name flinch, "That's your name, innit? I know you, I know _him. _Believe me, I know what kind of trouble you're in, mate. More than maybe you ever will."

"How the hell do you know my name?" Craig breathed, blood already pumping adrenaline, ready to fight if necessary, "Who is '_him_?'"

The man leveled a point at the core in Craig's arms, "Him."

The archivist had to struggle to keep his grip on Rick, "No. You can't possibly-"

"What a crock of bull-"

"Shhh!" Craig hissed, setting Rick down on the desk because his arms were shaking so bad.

"Rick Sargento, mate of mine while we worked in this bloody cesspool," the employee explained, "Gabbed on forever like a right motormouth about a guy back home he dated, named Craig."

Something didn't feel quite right about his story, but with a tired, hungry, muddled mind, Craig couldn't exactly place what it was. It must be the lack of a familiar human face, but just the fact that he knew Rick meant Craig was feeling a little more willing to trust him. He shouldn't, he realized; not that anyone making friends with Rick or listening to him talk saved him from the end he met. Still, figuring out just what was going on was ideal.

"S-Slow down," Craig asked, quickly brushing his bangs from his forehead wearily, "How... how did you know him? Who are you?"

"It's... it's a long story, if you'd like to... oh I don't know, stick around to hear it, perhaps," the man smiled just a little, feeling a little more confident now that the smaller man wasn't trying to hit him with a chair, "I'm, ah, well, Alvin. Everyone... well, I'd quite _like_ it if everyone just called me Wheatley."

"Wheatley," Craig repeated, bracing a hand on the desk, "Craig Hurst."

"Ah, yeah, I... I know," the man laughed a little awkwardly, trying to break the tension, "Gonna take a guess and you've found Rick's Sphere."

"And his corpse," Craig's pink eyes leveled with Wheatley's coldly.

That got him to shut up quick. He directed his gaze elsewhere, looking bothered by the information as well. If the employee knew the details before Craig crashed into his office, it was impossible to tell. One would imagine that the reaction would be greater if he didn't, but Craig had just met this man; it was pointless to attempt to judge his emotions.

"I honestly didn't think I'd ever get to meet you," Wheatley broke the silence finally, gingerly moving toward Craig to take the chair back behind the desk, "Rick used to chat idly about dragging me and..."

He stopped suddenly and his shoulders slumped a little, "Dragging little ole' me back to the hometown, 'cause that's what mates do, yeah? Never thought any of that'd come true!"

Wheatley laughed an empty little chuckle and looked up at Craig again. Chuffed wasn't exactly the reaction on his face, not like Wheatley was trying to feign. Of course, the archivist had seen better days. Dark bags ringed his eyes and he looked paler than his already pale complexion; his hands were still shaking, though Craig didn't seem to notice. He didn't seem to be amused by the curious happenstance at all. Not that Wheatley could exactly _blame _him, considering the situation. For a moment, blue eyes regarded the singular green one in the room, almost warily, almost suspiciously.

"How... how long have you been here? And, if you don't mind me asking there, where did you find _that_?" Wheatley changed the subject artlessly, gesturing toward the core with a tilt of his head.

Craig winced, attempting to remember just how long it had been, since time got eaten up here ravenously, "Two... two days. I'm positive, yes."

"How did you get in, by the way? Don't figure they let you have the run of the place, unless they changed the rules since I got here...," Wheatley sat down at his desk and started fuss with some of the papers, but his attention was on Craig. It looked like he was used to just making himself look busy as opposed to actual work.

Unsure of just how far he ought to trust this man, Craig gripped the ID he was given in the parking lot inside of his jacket pocket, "I got in due to less than legal methods, you're correct."

"And the sphere?"

"I don't know," the blond answer honestly, picking Rick up in a somewhat possessive gesture like Wheatley inferred he would take him away again, "I went through a giant valve-release door and after coming across a few things that would give Eldritch abominations nightmares, I found some sort of room full of broken robotic odds and ends."

The desk worker went from staring at Rick, who had fallen uncharacteristically quiet, to watching the newcomer with open shock, "You got yourself rooting around the basement?" he asked incredulously.

'Basement' wasn't how Craig would have described it; 'Living Hell' might have been a more appropriate moniker. He stayed silent, daring Wheatley to prove him wrong with a cold, even stare. The employee raked his thick fingers through his already messy hair, looking like he believed the other man, but it was a difficult task, considering what he knew. His gaze fixed on Craig again and he opened his mouth, but promptly shut it when he realized something suddenly. A light bulb flicked on, and immediately he looked sheepish, like he ought to have realized this sooner.

"Two days, what've you been doing down there? Not much there to take care of yourself, yeah?" he said slowly, glancing over Craig's disheveled and exhausted form.

The answer to that was pretty clear, so an answer was not given. Wheatley motioned with both pointer fingers to allow him a moment, he pried himself out of his chair and skirted out of the room in a half-jog. Craig glanced down at Rick, who glanced back with a skeptical, knowing glance.

"What a fruit basket," Rick grumbled, "He's a few apples short of a bushel if y'ask me."

Craig's tired arms shook and he grunted with a little effort to set the core down on a stack of boxes so he could see the entire room, "He claims to have known you."

"'Ey, not me, _him_," Rick corrected, referring to Craig's now late partner, though it was already clear that they were one in the same, "I don't know shit about this guy an' I don't trust him far as I can throw'im. Wouldn't be very fuckin' far even if I HAD arms, lookit him!"

That earned him a frown and crossed arms, though the archivist wasn't any more sure of what to think of their new company. He had no reason to trust anyone or any_thing_ in this place, not even the core who sounded so much like Rick had before he'd left. A lot of trust was being pinned to a seemingly sentient metal ball who could just as easily be betraying him as anything else in this place. Craig was glad to settle for anything that did not try to _kill _him. Secondary traits of not wanting to turn the both of them in were also very positive and as long as Wheatley didn't come back with security, Craig was willing to trust him at least a little more than he already had by letting him leave just now. Not as much as the Adventure Sphere, but that was an entirely different situation...

So he took the high road, for Rick's sake, "We don't have a lot of options," the man pointed out, "If he's willing to let us—let _me_ rest and nothing else, that's all that matters."

The core's optic shutters drooped a little, realizing just what Craig meant by that with a glance at the blond's face. He still looked like he was running on nothing but determination and adrenaline. Two days, don't humans normally eat sometimes?

"Yeah, yeah," Rick grumbled, "Guess you're right."

Craig gave the core an affectionate pat to the hull, "I'm not alone, after all. We will both keep an eye on him, correct?"

Before Rick could answer, the door opened again, the office worker blundering through the door again and hastily shutting it, holding a brown paper bag and an assortment of plastic wrapped vending machine goods. Alvin clumsily dumped it all on his desk and gestured to it with a proud smile, looking quite a lot like a puppy who had finally fetched the stick. Food. Seemed like Wheatley remembered the humans ate occasionally, too. That was the last thing on Craig's mind, but it was likely the first thing his body needed. A sudden ache blossomed in his stomach, like his body was finally allowing itself to catch up with how bad it had been neglected over the past several days.

"Even _I_ know there couldn't possibly be much in the basement that might look like food," Wheatley explained, offering the paper bag to his new guest, "Would hope you'd be smart enough to leave it be if it did, haha, might... turn you into a nightlight or worse...!"

His laugh was insincere because they both knew that to be a little too true for comfort. Cautiously, Craig took the paper bag and opened it, seeing a small packed lunch, a sandwich, a piece of fruit, and a little plastic bag full of what looked like popcorn; it must have been Wheatley's and now he was offering it to a complete stranger. It was kind and in Craig's completely deprived state, it was wonderfully benevolent. However, it raised some likely ill-placed suspicion.

"This is yours," he stated flatly, as though he was about to decline.

Both desk jockey and metal sphere glanced at the stubborn blond with mild disbelief. Wheatley picked up several of the plastic wrapped cupcakes and crackers, waving them at Craig dismissively.

"Oohh no, mate, you're... well, I suppose calling you a _guest_ isn't quite right, ah... irregardless, there's plenty for both, yeah?" he shrugged and pulled open one of the packages clumsily.

The only minor annoyance at the poor vocabulary spoke volumes of just how tired Craig happened to be. He could give no more argument and shakily sat on the tile floor at the foot of the boxes where he'd set Rick down. There were a lot of questions that needed to be asked, but Craig pushed them aside in favor of opening up a peanut butter sandwich. The sudden scent made his stomach growl ferociously and he barely realized he'd wolfed the whole thing down. Just a little bit of food suddenly made the hunger pangs worse and he made short work of at least three packages of crackers and the popcorn.

"...Better?" Wheatley asked tentatively, "Looks like you enjoyed it, anyway."

Craig held up the apple that was left in the paper bag, rubbing it on the knee of his slacks, "Yes," he said quietly, focused more on the red skin of the fruit than the employee speaking to him, "...thank you," he added as an afterthought.

There was a small, disdainful scoff above him, coming from the curiously quiet Adventure Sphere. The archivist glanced above him for a moment, but winced at the eyeful of light he got. He rubbed his eyes, a yawn threatening to bubble up at the very same moment. Threat of getting caught had shoved all thoughts of sleeping more out of his head; not that he ever thought he had a lot of time anyway. Now that his body deemed all threats gone, it was attempting to shut back down. Unfortunately, Craig didn't quite trust Alvin Wheatley the disloyal Aperture employee anymore than Rick did. He simply knew how to keep up appearances. It was important to stay awake.

He looked at the apple again, "Apples, oranges, pears, plums," he murmured to himself, listing off all the fruit he could think of, "Kumquats, tangerines, lemons, limes, avocados, tomatoes, bananas..."

"You say something?" Wheatley piped up, "Not a talkative fellow, are you? Maybe I heard things, you never know."

"I'm attempting to stay awake," Craig said without thinking, stopping when he realized that he let on his intentions without meaning, "...Did you know that avocados have the highest fiber and calories of any other fruit?"

The feeble attempt to change the subject seemed to go over well, since Wheatley pushed his glasses up his noses, trying to cover up a confused expression.

"A fruit are they? Not sure you're right there, doesn't taste much like a fruit, now does it?"

Rick peered over the edge of the boxes down at his companion, "Y'can sleep if ya wanna, darlin', I'll keep an eye on things an' all," he informed him with a flick of his handlebars to the man at the desk.

Craig stared straight ahead for a moment, but decided that it was only for the best. Staying awake was stubborn and unhelpful in this situation. And he was just... very tired. Eventually, he stood and set the apple on the desk, shooting a quarter of a smile at Wheatley that didn't reach his eyes.

"I need to rest," he murmured again, picking up his jacket and settling down next to the supply cabinet.

"Ah... alright then," Wheatley said, moving to stand and immediately sat back down when Craig got comfortable, "Don't mind me then, won't hear a peep. Nothing at all, won't bother you."

He only got a nod in response. Wheatley glanced at the Adventure Sphere, who narrowed his shutters at him. His shoulders drooped and he looked over at Craig, the bags under his eyes much more obvious now that the archivist took off his glasses and placed them in his jacket pocket. A wave of guilt and pity was rolling through the man, two personalities in this room to whom he owed a lot of explanations. It was going to be a very long day.

"...Sleep well, then," he spoke up again, wincing in regret when Craig stirred because of it.

When the blond stopped moving, Wheatley opened up a drawer in his desk as quietly as he could. He fished around the bottom until he pulled out a flash drive. It was dropped on his desk like it was too hot to handle; in reality, he just didn't want to touch it. It felt wrong, like it was cursed or something similarly sinister. Wheatley picked up the apple Craig left and worried about the consequences of that flash drive while Rick watched him and Craig slept.


End file.
